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CONTINUED ON THIRD PAGE OF COVER. 


THE LADY EGER IA; 

OR, 


BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 



THE LADY EGERIA 


OR, 


BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 

A NOVEL 


BY 

JOHN BERWICK HARWOOD, 

AUTHOR OF “ONE FALSE, BOTH FAIR.” 



NEW YORK: 

JOHN W . LOVELL COMPANY, 

142 to 150 Worth Street. 


Copyright, 1890, 

BY 

JOHN W. LOVELL. 


» 


THE LADY EGERIA 

OR, 

BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


$ 


, • CHAPTER I. 

IN THE RAJAH’S PALACE. 

“ The Durbar is over, sahib. If my lord would wait, the 
prince would see him.” 

And, as he said the words, the speaker, who was clad in 
a robe of white, and wore a jeweled badge in front of his 
muslin turban, as become the confidential servant of a 
Rajah, bent his supple back, and smiled a deferential 
welcome to the European visitor whom he knew to have 
found unusual favor with his wayward master. 

“ Right, Motee — I’ll wait,” cheerfully responded the 
young officer, as his undress uniform showed him to be, 
and then retreated a pace or two, and leaned his graceful 
strength against one of the tall marble columns of the outer 
hall, as with half-shut eyes he watched the Rajah’s coun- 
selors file past. These were of all degrees, from the portly 
Hindoo banker, or the shrewd Parsee merchant, to the 
martial Mahometan noble, proud of his Turkish blood, and 
twisting his wiry moustache as he strode by to where his 
horse and his running footmen awaited him among the 
tamarind trees without. 

A handsome young fellow enough, with his well-knit 
form and regular features, and the crisp, curling hair of 
darkest brown that peeped from beneath the white helmet 
that he wore as a protection against the burning rays of an 
Indian sun. 


4 


THE LADY EGER I A ; 


But the eyes were more remarkable than the shapely 
mouth, with its pleasant smile, or the broad, low brow. 
Fine hazel eyes they were, gentle, and even pensive, in 
their ordinary expression, but which at rare moments could 
flash like those of an actual falcon, and with much the 
same expression as that of the bird of prey about to dart 
upon its destined quarry. 

It was seldom, however, that those eyes assumed that 
tell-tale glitter, whether of wrath or greed, for Lieutenant 
Richard Harrington was among the most popular officers 
of the cavalry regiment to which he belonged. Not quite 
so well liked, perhaps, as his elder brother, who was a 
captain in the same corps, and who had won the good-will 
of all around him, but still standing well with every one, 
from the grey-haired colonel to the very privates. 

The badge of crape that he wore around his arm had 
been very recently assumed. It was indeed but a few 
days since the news of their father’s death had reached the 
two brothers. That news had been startling indeed. Sir 
George Harrington, a hale man, who had seemed likely to 
live for many years, had perished in a railway accident, and 
on Captain Lionel Harrington, as eldest son and heir, the 
title and estates had now suddenly devolved. 

The palace, at the door of which the young officer now 
awaited his audience with the prince, was vast and spacious, 
but there was something stern and gloomy about its aspect, 
standing, as it did, in the depths of an Indian forest, with 
its giant trees and dense undergrowth of bushes and 
creeping plants. 

It stood about equally remote from the little town which 
was the Rajah’s capital and from the cantonments of the 
British military force, and with its frowning battlements 
and numerous towers had the air rather of a fortress than 
of a mere mansion. As a fortress, indeed, it had been 
originally planned, and had, before now, repulsed a siege 
by European troops, for the grandfather of Amarat Rao, 
the present Rajah, had been a thorn in the side of the 
Honorable East India Company when first the pacification 
of that turbulent part of the country was undertaken in 
real earnest. All that was over long since. 

I he reigning family had been sufficiently prudent or 
lucky to make their peace with the powers that be, and had 
rendered good service during the Mutiny, and had thus 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT \ 


5 


earned a sort of hereditary claim to the Order of the Star 
of India, as well as to the designation of Victorious Child, 
bestowed by the Viceregal Government as a reward for 
help rendered in troublous times. 

And yet Amarat Rao, K.S.I., and Rajah of Futtehpore, 
was not fully trusted by the supreme authorities as a vassal 
of his rank should be. 

It was a strong brigade that lay encamped close to 
his tiny capital, and a well-chosen official who acted as 
Resident at his petty court. The prince was known to 
have all the usual vices of an Oriental despot — indolence 
excepted — and there were whispers of dark intrigues 
carried on by the help of obscure agents, and of a confe 
deracy of discontented chiefs ready, should opportunity 
but serve, to make use of the prestige that still clung to 
Amarat Rao’s ancient lineage, and which had enabled his 
forefathers to defy the Mogul Emperors when at the zenith 
of their power. 

Nothing was proved, however ; and to all appearance 
Rajah and Resident were on the most amicable terms, 
while but a month before the officers of the English garrison 
had been royally entertained at the palace — no very rare 
event, for Amarat Rao, with all his faults, was hospitably 
inclined, and would occasionally appear to take pleasure 
in the society of educated Europeans. 

To Richard Harrington the Rajah was reputed to have 
taken a remarkable fancy, and the young man had been 
more often at the palace, and more frequently invited to 
accompany the prince on his hunting expeditions, than any 
one of his brother officers. 

Perhaps the strange fluency with which he spoke Hin- 
dustani — for he was one of those born linguists to whom the 
acquisition of a foreign language appears an instinctive 
accomplishment — may have recommended him to the 
Rajah’s favor ; but, at any rate, the fact was so ; and this 
was the second visit he had paid to the palace during the 
few days that had elapsed since his becoming cognizant of 
Sir George’s death. 

Motee, the confidential servant, who had slipped away, 
now came back with catlike tread. 

“ Our lord, the prince, protector of the poor, awaits you, 
sahib ! ” he said, with a fresh salaam ; and under his 
guidance Richard Harrington threaded his way through 


6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


shadowy halls and pillared galleries, and across narrow belts 
of garden, where roses bloomed and sparkling fountains 
tossed on high their spray, shining in the sun like diamond 
dust. He passed sundry groups of dusky servants, who 
greeted him with respect, and a knot of the armed troopers 
of the Rajah’s bodyguard, whose weapons clattered as they 
stepped back to let him pass through their ranks; but in 
general hall and cloister were empty, and showed signs 
as of decay and neglect. Those arabesques gorgeous 
with gold, those colored marbles from Italy, those costly 
fountains, even the choice flowers brought from Europe to 
be acclimatized in India, told of by-gone splendor and 
prodigal expenditure such as successful or hard-handed 
oppression could alone provide for. 

The young officer found the Rajah, as he had expected, 
not in the great audience chamber in which the formal 
Durbar had just been held, but in a smaller room, pillared 
with Carrara marble, and decorated in the Moorish style, 
where the prince, when alone, usually sat. 

“I am glad to see you, Ric Sahib,” said Amarat Rao, 
affably, as he held out his languid, jeweled fingers for 
Lieutenant Harrington to touch with his own, and signed 
to the young officer to seat himself among the silken 
cushions of the raised platform, draped with rich stuff, 
which constituted the dais or divan, and above which was 
a canopy of peacocks’ plumes and cloth of gold. The 
prince was, like most high-caste natives, very different in 
aspect from the swarthy soldiers and attendants who 
swarmed beneath his palace roof. In fact, with his pale, 
dark face and clear-cut features, he might easily have been 
mistaken for a Spaniard or a Sicilian but for the snow- 
white robes he wore and for his small turban, in front of 
which was the coveted jika or aigrette of herons’ plumes 
mingled with diamonds, the well-known badge of Eastern 
royalty. A Delhi scarf of red, embroidered in silk and 
gold, was wound around his waist, and in it was a short 
dagger, the haft of which was encrusted with very large 
rubies, while the triple necklace that he wore was composed 
of great pearls, the value of which, heirlooms as they were, 
it would have been hard to estimate. Motee, so soon as 
the visitor was seated, made haste to offer betel nut and 
sweetmeats on a tiny golden tray, and so soon as the 
European, now well versed in the lessons of Oriental 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


7 


politeness, had touched these successively with the tips of 
his fingers, salaamed and retired. 

“ You have, prince, a jewel of a servant in Motee, 
unless I mistake/’ remarked the young officer, smiling, 
when they were left alone. 

“A pearl of a servant, as his name implies/’ answered 
the Rajah, in English, which he spoke correctly enough, 
but slowly and with effort, and then, in his own tongue, 
continued : “ The dog is really grateful, I believe, because 
I saved him from a dog’s death. You look surprised, my 
young friend, but such things are. Four years ago, you 
must know, Motee was a Thug, and one of the most skillful 
stranglers, I believe, in a very dangerous gang, six of 
whom we hanged, including their captain and lieutenant, 
Ali Khan and Lall Singh by name, for the band was pretty 
equally divided between the two religions. Motee there 
had the luck to be able to write Persian poetry and the wit 
to address me in verse from his prison, and I had the 
whim or the weakness to save his rascally neck from the 
cord ; though, after all, the poor fellow has good qualities, 
and would go through fire and water at my bidding, I am 
sure. Yes, he makes me a good servant. But you did not 
come here to-day, Ric Sahib, to talk merely of the merits 
of Motee,” added the prince, opening his sleepy, dark eyes, 
which seemed to dilate like those of a tiger awakening 
from repose, and throwing a searching glance at Richard 
Harrington. 

“ Indeed, no,” replied the young man, earnestly, but 
looking anxiously around, as though to be certain that no 
eavesdropper was at hand ; “ I wish to pursue, prince, 
with your Highness’ permission, the conversation which — 
you may remember — ” 

“ I remember ! ” said the Rajah, with emphasis, as the 
other hesitated; ‘‘you did but drop a hint, Ric Sahib, the 
other day, when you told me of your wealthy father’s 
death ; but a hint is enough for me, and India is — India ; 
though some of your philanthropists are pleased to view us 
and our country through a rose-colored haze, as I know. 
Shall we walk up and down, Ric, and talk the matter over ? 
I am weary of sitting still to hearken to the platitudes of 
yonder solemn asses in Durbar. But you, boy, are a man 
of action, one after my own heart.” 

The Rajah, ever restless, rose as he spoke, and he and 


8 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Lieutenant Harrington, for the space of some half hour, 
paced together to and fro among the marble pillars of the 
long and dimly-lighted hall, conversing alternately in 
Hindustani and in English, but in tones studiously low, 
and with evident caution. During the last part of the inter- 
view the prince, who had passed his arm round Richard 
Harrington’s neck, spoke only in a whisper — 

“ Enough ; we understand each other. It shall be 
done ! ” said the Rajah at length, in louder and more de- 
cisive accents, but smiling as he spoke. He clapped his 
hands, and Motee appeared as promptly as a spirit sum- 
moned by a wizard ; and, under his guidance, again did 
the European visitor traverse the outer courts of the huge 
palace, until at last he reached the free air, mounted his 
horse, and road back to the camp. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE AMBUSH. 

“ Terrible news to-day — thirty-seven fresh cases, so the 
Havildar reported to my husband, in our regiment alone, 
since last night. And in the Bazaar yonder, the pooi 
wretches are dying like flies. It is worse, I really think, 
than the plague could be.” 

“ All this makes me nervous and unhappy — more for 
Frank’s sake than mine,” said another and a younger lady, 
as she adjusted the folds of her riding habit of grey linen, 
and patted the glossy neck of her Arab horse. 

“I wish, I do wish, that the Government would take 
fright too, and order us off to the hills, before worse comes 
of it.” 

And yet, from the appearance of the cantonments, it 
would have been difficult to guess that a fearful epidemic 
ot cholera was raging in the district ; that the native town, 
or so-called Bazaar, was shunned as the direst centre oi 
the fell disease ; that the military hospitals were full ol 
siek a ad dying j and that the disorder had already mown 
down its hundreds. 

The camp looked picturesque and cheerful, as usual, 
With its ranges of huts and clusters of white tents, its 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


9 


fluttering flags, and on its outskirts the customary line of 
thick-roofed villas or bungalows, each standing in its com- 
pound, or well-fenced garden and yard, and all presenting 
an aspect of comfort and security. Troops, native and 
European, were being drilled or exercised on the parade 
grounds ; patrols rode clanking past ; water carriers and 
vendors of fuel or vegetables went straggling by, bending 
under their loads ; while carriages and equestrians were 
frequently to be seen, starting for the invigorating ride or 
drive, for which the early morning in India, alone, is 
suited. 

Day had not long dawned, and the hot sun had not the 
power that, later on, its glowing rays would possess, while 
a pleasant breeze played among the broad-leaved shrubs 
of the gardens, and caused the canvas of the tents to heave 
and flap as each welcome gust went by. 

“ Who are those ? They seem a perfect cavalcade,” 
said a third member of the mounted party, who were pre- 
paring to set off for the traditional gallop at dawn — a 
young subaltern this, whose sojourn in India had begun 
but a fortnight since, and who was, naturally, unused to the 
ways of the country. 

“ Nothing very wonderful ! ” answered, smiling, the more 
experienced paymaster, who made the fourth member of 
the group. “ Only two officers of the Lancers, with their 
orderlies and servants and baggage animals, setting out 
on detachment duty towards Dhoondi Tope, I suspect, 
where some European cavalry and horse artillery are 
stationed. Ah ! I see who they are — those two young 
Harringtons — Sir Lionel, as I suppose we ought to call the 
captain now, and his brother Richard.” 

“ The inseparables ! ” said the younger of the two married 
ladies, with a silvery laugh. “ Frank gives them the nick- 
name of Damon and Pythias — not inappropriate either, 
since you seldom see one without the other.” 

And indeed the affectionate regard of the brothers for 
one another had become proverbial in the cantonments of 
Futtehpore, and occasioned some speculation among their 
friends as to what, in their altered circumstances, would 
become of them. 

There had never been a doubt as to what the young 
baronet, with his large fortune and high hereditary position 
in his native county, would do. Of course, he would give 


IO 


THE LADY EGERLA ; 


up soldiering and return home, to represent the shire in 
Parliament, as his father and grandfather had done, and to 
undertake the duties of a landed proprietor. 

Richard, the younger, had, indeed, declared his own in- 
tention to remain in the East and pursue his military 
career ; but there were many who said, laughingly, that 
Sir Lionel could never do without him, and that the two 
would be domiciled at Greystone Abbey before many 
months were out. 

Meanwhile, as had been conjectured, the two young 
officers who had been the subjects of conversation, rode on 
across the camp, and leaving the hard road, struck into the 
weed-grown jungle track which led towards the remote and 
secluded station of Dhoondi Tope. They were not alone, 
since a paymaster, as well as two native clerks in Govern- 
ment enploy, accompanied them on horseback ; and there 
were also a train of bullocks, laden with stores of various 
kinds, and one or two carts containing bags of silver coin 
for regimental pay, as well as tent lascars, coolies, and 
domestic servants, and all the followers without whom, in 
India, no march can be undertaken, and which swelled the 
number of the party to an imposing sum total. 

The expedition, it was reckoned, would take, in all, 
from two to three days, and it was necessary to be pro- 
vided with much that, in Europe, the traveler is exempt 
from taking with him. 

Escort, strictly speaking, there was none. The neigh- 
borhood was a quiet one, and not a professional Thug or 
Dacoit had for years past infested it ; so that it had not 
been deemed worth while to put the treasure under the 
protection of a regular guard. 

As the foremost riders reached the edge of the jungle, 
both the brothers, as if moved by a common impulse, 
reined up their steeds and looked back. There, through 
a faint haze of dust, was discernible the camp they had 
left, the tents and flags, the houses and gardens, the infan- 
try at drill, the long line of troopers, two and two, taking 
their horses to water at the tank, and the flutter of plumed 
hats and lined riding habits among the baobab trees and 
hedges of milkthorn. 

To the left stretched a yellow plain, varied by orchards 
and villages nestling in hollows, where a rivulet of water 
trickled from the higher levels of the forest, and ran, fringed 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


II 


by feathery bamboos, past hamlets and rice fields. Dimly 
seen to the right were the domes and minarets and densely- 
crowded buildings of the Bazaar, where, as the gazers well 
knew, the scythe of Death was so busy. 

There were two ill-kept roads which entered the forest 
just at that spot — that which led towards the distant fort 
of Dhoondi Tope, for which, with the money and stores, 
the wayfarers were bound ; and another, narrower but less 
weed-grown, that led towards the Rajah’s palace, not a 
trace of which, however, could be distinguished, so dense 
was the screen of ancient trees. 

“ There’s the road to your friend’s house, Dick ! ” was 
the half-careless remark of the elder brother, as he smiling- 
ly pointed with his hand towards where he knew the un- 
seen mass of halls and towers to lie. “ I have no right to 
quarrel with his Highness’ taste, but I shouldn’t like to live 
where he does, myself. A month in that dreary place 
would be enough to turn one’s brain.” 

“ Wouldn’t suit me either ; but live and let live,” tran- 
quilly responded Richard Harrington ; and then added, as 
the paymaster rode up, “ How say you, Macfarlane ? 
Lionel and I are of one mind, that it would not be worth 
living in so dismal a mansion as the palace, yonder, even 
to be the Rajah of a much bigger State than Futtehpore.” 
“’Deed you may say so,” chimed in Mr. Macfarlane, 
whose sympathies with natives and their customs were not 
very much developed. a It’s not their heathenish splen- 
dors that would tempt me to such a life of puffing at 
hookahs and chewing betel nut. One day in Lochaber is 
worth a month in India, gentlemen.” 

And they rode on, and were soon lost to sight amidst the 
deepening glades of the forest, followed by the long train 
of baggage and attendants. It was remarkable to notice 
how strong was the resemblance between Sir Lionel Har- 
rington and his brother, different as the two were in com- 
plexion, and even in expression. Richard, as has been men- 
tioned, was dark, with crisp, brown curls and hazel eyes. 
Those of Captain Harrington were blue, and matched 
well with the golden hair and a skin delicately fair, although 
there was no lack of manliness in the young baronet’s 
aspect. He was handsomer, stronger, and slightly taller 
than his brother, while in his face there was something 
frank and noble, something inexpressibly winning, which 


12 


THE LADY EGER1A ; 


won him the good-will of all who valued honor and cour- 
age and courtesy. There were those who said that Lionel 
Harrington’s bearing had made them believe, for the first 
time, in tales of chivalry and of knights without reproach 
or fear. 

The cavalcade wended slowly onward for some hours, 
in the midst of a luxuriant vegetation ; the rosy shrubs or 
bamboo brakes alternating with clumps of huge trees, from 
stem to stem and bough to bough of which hung, like 
flowery ropes, the matted creepers that play so important 
a part in sub-tropical forest growth. Nothing beyond the 
occasional sight of a deer, or the gleam of gorgeous 
plumage as a wild peacock rose screaming on the wing, 
broke the solemn stillness of the jungle ; but the heat of 
the day increased perceptibly as the sun climed higher in 
the heavens, and the morning breeze grew faint and died 
away. 

“ What on earth can it be ? Something shining — like 
steel — among the bushes ; and I thought I heard the neigh 
of a horse,’’ suddenly exclaimed Sir Lionel, drawing bridle 
and grasping his revolver. “ Richard ! — Macfarlane ! 
Look out for mischief.” 

The warning was all too late, for in the next instant there 
were a flash of flame and a crackling report, as a dozen 
matchlocks were discharged from behind the brushwood, 
and forth from the ambush rushed a body of natives, horse 
and foot, brandishing their weapons and shouting savage- 

J y— . . 

“ Maro ! Maro ! Kill ! kill ! Down with the Feringhees ! ” 

There were a few moments of inexpressible confusion, 
din and hurry. The sharp bang, bang of the revolvers 
with which the officers were armed might be heard amidst 
the furious cries of the assailants, the trampling of horses, 
the clash of swords, and the agonized shrieks of the 
miserable camp followers, who flung themselves in terror 
on the ground, or ran aimlessly to and fro, praying for 
mercy and quarter. 

Of the issue of the encounter there could be no doubt 
from the first, for the assailants so far outnumbered the 
handful of combatants on the other side as to render the 
struggle a hopeless one. 

Mr. Macfarlane, the paymaster, never was able to give 
a coherent account of what had really occurred. That he 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


13 

had been unhorsed, bruised somewhat severely, and slight- 
ly grazed by a sword stroke, the weight of which had beaten 
down his guard, he well knew, as also the fact that it was 
considerably past tiffin time when, dusty and exhausted, he 
regained the cantonments to apprise those in authority of 
the audacious violence with which some evil doers un- 
known had overpowered the escort and, doubtless, made 
free With the treasure. But long ere this Richard Harring- 
ton, pale and wild-eyed, had ridden at full speed into the 
camp to communicate the tidings of the recent disaster, 
and to call for aid to be instantly sent. All he knew con- 
cerning the assault was that it had been as successful as it 
was unexpected. He was himself unharmed, but every 
chamber of his revolver had been discharged, and there 
was blood — the blood of others — sprinkled over his clothes 
and saddle that showed the narrowness of his escape. In 
the scuffle he had lost sight of his brother, to whose 
succor he implored that all who heard him would hasten 
without the loss of a moment. 

Orders were given for a strong cavalry force to saddle 
and start at once, and there was no lack of eagerness on 
the part of the soldiers, angry for the attack on their 
officers, and thirsting for revenge. Before the rescuers 
were ready, the two orderlies, one of whom had lost his 
lance, and was bleeding, came galloping in to confirm 
Richard Harrington’s story. They did not believe, they 
said, that one of the natives accompanying the convoy had 
been spared, and were ready to affirm that Paymaster Mac- 
farlane, too, had been one of the victims of the massacre. 
They, too, were in ignorance of the fate of their captain, 
but one of them had a vague recollection of having, as he 
broke through the press of foes, caught sight of Sir Lionel, 
sword in hand, but surrounded by the enemy. 

The relieving party got to horse as quickly as they could, 
and rode briskly off, raising a cloud of dust as they swept 
across the plain and plunged into the jungle road ; Richard 
Harrington, who was well mounted, spurring on in front, 
and urging them to hasten to his dearly-loved brother’s 
assistance. 

In the cantonments wonder and indignation knew no 
bounds. The neighborhood was considered as tranquil 
and safe ; officers on duty or on sporting expeditions, ladies 
and children were accustomed to go about the district with 


I 4 THE LAD V EGER/A ; 

a sense of security that would now be banished for many 
a day. 

Some hours of painful expectancy went by. Sundry of 
the native servants, coolies and bullock drivers came 
straggling in, all scared and ghastly to look upon, and, for 
the most part, with recent wounds to show. Mr. Mac- 
farlane, too, arrived, as much annoyed, apparently, at the 
loss of his saddle horse as at the untoward accident that 
had befallen the Government cash, or the probable doom 
of his two brother officers, of neither of whom had he 
caught a glimpse since the onslaught. 

“ Fifteen hundred rupees the brute cost me, for Arabs 
are dear in the market,” he pithily remarked ; “ and a pony 
at two hundred would have been good enough, and too 
good, to be left in the clutches of yon black wretches.” 

At last the cavalry came clanking back, with gloomy 
looks and dejected air. They had found the scene of the 
late encounter tenanted only by the dead, since the 
corpses of eight or ten of the native servants and camp 
followers strewed the ground. The bullock carts were 
empty, and the treasure gone. Of Captain Sir Lionel 
Harrington no trace had proved discoverable. The 
trampled ground, the stains and pools of blood, told of a 
severe, if hopeless, struggle; but of the unfortunate young 
ofbcer, or of his horse, nothing could be seen. The 
searchers, at Richard Harrington’s entreaty, had tarried 
long at the fatal spot, shouting aloud, exploring every path 
through the jungle, peering into every thicket ; but all in 
vain. They had come back baffled, and the young baronet’s 
fate remained involved in mystery, though few augured 
that he could yet be numbered amongst the living. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE CHOLERA BED. 

A gloom prevailed in the camp at Futtehpore, usually so 
cheerful. What the cholera, still virulent and on the 
increase, had failed to effect, was caused by the wanton 
attack of which, there could be no reasonable doubt, 
young Sir Lionel had been the most prominent of the vie- 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT: 


15 


tims. All were sorry and saddened, and that the more so 
since no inquiries could establish any certainty, however 
painful. The native police had undertaken a quest which 
led to no discovery. The treasure, as might have been 
expected, had been carried off, and so had some of the 
more portable of the stores, such as cartridges and 
clothing ; but of the plunderers nothing could be heard. 

The marauders had vanished as entirely as if the earth 
had swallowed them up. And as with the robbers, so was 
it with the luckless Sir Lionel. In vain did Richard 
Harrington, who was inconsolable, and whose grief drew 
forth the sympathy of all who saw him, again and again, 
during the two days that succeeded the disaster, revisit 
the scene of the skirmish, accompanied by friends and 
servants, and even enlist the trained skill of swarthy 
Shikarees used to the tracking of wild beasts. Of wild 
beasts ? Alas ! it was more than probable that the body 
of the ill-starred young officer might have been torn to 
pieces, long ago, by wolves or jackals, in some obscure 
thicket into which, sorely wounded, he had crawled to die. 

Towards sunset on the second day, and when Richard 
Harrington, weary and dispirited, had returned to the 
cantonments after a renewal of the fruitless search, 
Motee, the Rajah’s favorite attendant, came breathless to 
the young man’s quarters to announce that his missing 
brother had been at last found, and to offer at once to guide 
him to the place where he lay. 

“ For the sahib captain ill— very, very ill-dead perhaps ! ” 
said the confidential servant, sadly, as he shook his head 
and drooped his eyes. “ Poor people — low-caste men, as 
you call them, sir — who burn charcoal in the woods to sell 
in the town, they find the sahib lying among bushes, not 
able to speak. They carry him to their own hut, far away. 
He get worse — so ill — they frightened and come to palace 
and send word to the prince, and the Rajah order Motee 
to hurry to Ric Sahib, and lead him to the spot.” 

Motee, when questioned, both by Lieutenant Harring- 
ton and by two of the other officers who chanced to be 
with him at the arrival of this messenger of startling news, 
had not much more to tell. What little he knew, how- 
ever, he recounted lucidly enough, in English, which, like 
many Hindoo servants of the better sort, he spoke with 
tolerable accuracy, since the other two subalterns who 


i6 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


were present were less conversant with native speech than 
was Richard Harrington. 

The charcoal burners, he said, related that they had 
found the young officer stretched on the ground, in a lonely 
part of the jungle, helpless and speechless, and writhing 
in the pain of severe illness — cholera, no doubt. They 
had carried him slowly along the narrow path that led to 
their own solitary hut, and had laid him on some sort of 
bed, but were too ignorant to be able to do anything to 
alleviate his sufferings. Then he ceased to writhe and 
moan, and his wild hosts grew alarmed, fearing he might 
be dead, and dreading punishment should the body of an 
English officer be found hidden beneath their miserable 
roof, and so at last they decided to go off to their prince’s 
palace with the news. It was not immediately that des- 
pised outcasts such as these could get a hearing from the 
Rajah’s servitors. 

“ At last,” said Motee, “ some one listen — tell one of 
the indoor servants of our lord, and so the tidings come to 
my ears, and I go to my lord the Rajah, and he bid me 
order to be saddled a swift horse, and so I come here, as 
fast as the grooms can run, to say the sad thing ; but I 
fear too late ! ” 

Ten minutes more, and Richard Harrington, accom- 
panied by his two friends and by the surgeon of the 
regiment, as well as by a number of native attendants, 
some of whom bore blazing torches, needful amidst the 
shadows of the darkling forest, and others a light ambu- 
lance hand litter constructed of bamboo, set forth for that 
portion of the jungle which lay nearest to the cantonments, 
under the guidance of Motee. 

There was much excitement prevailing throughout the 
lines, for the rumor that the lost was found had spread 
like wildfire, but none offered, for fear of intruding on the 
younger brother’s grief, to accompany the searching party 
from motives of mere curiosity. The men contented them- 
selves with crowding together to watch the straggling line 
of torches, until they vanished in the darkness of the fall- 
ing night. 

Slowly, too slowly for Richard Harrington’s natural 
impatience, did the long procession thread its way along 
the sinuous paths, narrow, and crossed in places by wild 
vines and parasitic plants, often covered with blossoms of 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*7 


strange shapes and colors, that grew in rich luxuriance, 
stretching from tree to tree. 

The tall, coarse grass in many places rose breast high, 
and, with the frequent canebrakes, afforded just such 
lurking places as a tiger prefers. From tigers, however, 
nothing was to be feared. The torches, the sound of many 
feet, the crackling of dried twigs beneath the tread, and 
the hum of voices, would have sufficed to deter even a 
confirmed man-eater from showing his striped skin amidst 
the bushes. Now and then, with angry hiss, a startled 
snake would move, rustling off through the reeds and 
grass, and from afar, come the hateful cry of the ever- 
restless jackal, but otherwise the stillness of the woods was 
absolute. The endless rows of tall trees stretched away 
into darkness, fitfully irradiated here and there by specks of 
light, as fireflies uncounted danced and wheeled beneath 
their spreading boughs. 

“ There, sahib, is the hut,” said Motee at last, pointing 
to a low-roofed hovel, built of the roughest materials, 
bamboos from the brake and mud from the swamp, and 
thatched with palm leaves. 

With beating hearts, the four Europeans pushed open 
the unfastened door, rudely constructed of bark, and the 
hinges of which were of the twisted fibres of the wild hemp, 
and entered. 

The shed, long and low, was windowless, save for two 
small and unglazed apertures, close to the chuppur or 
thatch, to admit light, and now utter darkness reigned 
within the wretched, and, as it seemed, deserted, dwelling, 
while the air was hot and stifling. 

Torches were brought, and, by their smoky glare, could 
be seen the whole interior of the hut, floored with clay, and 
across the further end of which a bamboo platform, sup- 
ported by short posts or props of unbarked wood, sus- 
tained two or three beds of the humblest kind, a chest of 
painted wood, and some tall jars, such as those in which 
food is commonly stored for use. 

On one of the beds, that which was nearest to the door- 
way, lay a human form as if in sleep. The face was 
averted, but there was no mistaking the uniform that Cap- 
tain Harrington wore, stained as it was with blood and 
mire, and torn by thorns. 

“ My brother ! My poor Lionel ! ” exclaimed Richard 

2 


i8 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


passionately, as he hurried to the side of the pallet on 
which reclined the prostrate form, and took in his the 
unresisting hand that was so cold to the touch. “ Doctor, 
for Heaven's sake ! see what you can do for him. Poor 
fellow ! ” 

The surgeon had already placed his practiced fingers on 
the passive wrist of the recumbent figure. He shook his 
head, for there was no pulsation, howsoever slight. 

Too late, I am afraid ! ” was his reluctant verdict 
when the examination was over. “ Life, I should say, 
must have been extinct at least two hours ago. This has 
been one of those cases, unless I am much mistaken, in 
which cholera — the pestilence that walks now among us — 
has done its fell work with cruel suddenness." 

Richard Harrington reeled rather than walked across 
the hut, and, leaning against the rude doorpost, covered 
his face with his hands, and sobbed aloud. His outbreak 
of grief, too bitter, evidently, to be repressed, moved the 
pity of even the native attendants without, while the young 
officers who had accompanied him on this sad errand 
looked ruefully at one another, and knew not what to do. 
After a brief space, however, Lieutenant Harrington 
seemed to rally his faculties, and uncovered his face, on 
which the trace of tears still glistened. 

“ Don’t mind me, Seymour and Graham," he said, in a 
voice that was not yet quite steady. “ You know — and 
so do you, Sutton — how fond I was of ’’ 

“ We all feel for you, Harrington," said the doctor, 
more gently than it was his wont to speak ; “ and all re- 
spect your natural sorrow for your brave and good brother. 
Poor lad ! I doubt if medical skill could have availed to 
save him had we been earlier than we were." 

And, indeed, the face, which was terribly contorted, 
bore testimony to Sir Lionel’s sufferings. He had, as the 
surgeon’s hasty personal examination proved, received no 
wound in the fray, the traces of which, in the shape of dust 
and blood, were on his uniform, and even on his matted 
hair. His helmet had been lost, and his sword was 
gone. The condition of his clothes — torn, and mud- 
bespattered — told of weary struggling through miry 
swamps and thorny thickets ; and it was conjectured that 
he had made his escape, on foot, from the marauders, into 
the trackless recesses of the jungle, and, while wandering 


„ OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*9 


there, had been seized by the dread disorder, the unsus- 
pected germs of which he had probably brought with him 
when he left the camp so gaily on the morning of the 
ambuscade. 

Sir Lionel had not been robbed, either by the plun- 
derers who had carried off the treasure, or by the Pariah 
charcoal burners, who had found him lying motionless and 
speechless in the woods. On one of his fingers was still 
his well-known signet ring, engraved with the Harrington 
arms. His purse contained gold and silver, untouched ; 
and his watch, a valuable one that had been a present 
from his father, Sir George, with its chain and trinkets, 
was yet on his person. Unharmed by steel or shot, but 
exhausted with heat and fatigue, doubly trying to Euro- 
pean constitutions at that season of the year, he had clearly 
succumbed to the grim pestilence that every day took toll 
of lives in camp and town. 

The charcoal burners to whom the hut belonged were 
not forthcoming to tell the story that was already known. 
Motee, when questioned concerning them, shrugged his 
shoulders. They might not return, he said, for days to 
come, for such people were superstitious and timid. His 
Highness the prince had commanded that money should 
be sent out to them, and food, in reward for their exertions, 
and most likely they would, after eating, lie down to sleep 
among the tamarind trees without a thought for the mor- 
row. In any case, they could but relate what little they 
knew, in their own barbaric tongue, as incomprehensible 
to the cultured ears of high-caste Hindoos as to the Sahib 
Harrington himself. 

“The man’s about right there,” said Seymour, authori- 
tatively. “Those jungle wallahs seldom understand a 
syllable of pure Hindustani, and can but jabber their own 
jargon, Tamul or Teloogoo or Canarese. I learnt that 
when I was out shooting with a lot of them for beaters and 
guides : so it’s of small use to speak to them. But it’s get- 
ting late.” 

The body was lifted tenderly, and with that reverence 
which instinct dictates when dealing with the newly dead, 
from the squalid couch on which it lay, and was placed on 
the hand litter and covered with a military cloak. 

Then the slow, homeward march began, fresh torches 
being kindled to light the way along the darkling paths 


20 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


through the forest. It was black night now ; the whirring 
wings of bat and night hawk as they flew overhead unseen 
had a ghostly sound ; and once or twice from the cane- 
brakes was heard the snarling cry of some panther or 
other beast of prey that resented this nocturnal intrusion. 
It was late indeed when the cantonments were reached, 
and the body of the unfortunate young officer, hastily 
shrouded, and enclosed in one of those shell coffins that 
the native carpenters were all too busy in making, was laid 
upon the bed in his own quarters. 


CHAPTER IV. 

BROUGHT HOME. 

The Serapis , homeward bound from Bombay, fought her 
way gallantly up the Red Sea, in spite of baffling currents 
and the wind that blew so fiercely from the African coast, 
and duly steamed through the great Ship Canal that carries 
out in practice an old dream of Egypt’s by-gone rulers. 

Not a few among the passengers, kept very much on 
deck by the stifling heat that in that furnace of a climate 
alternates with a squall or gale, inquired who was the tall 
melancholy-eyed young man in black, whose handsome 
face had in it something strange and striking, and who 
shunned conversation with his fellow travelers. 

Those who were better informed, and notably the steam- 
er’s bluff old captain, said the sad-eyed young man was 
now one of the richest baronets in England, and that his 
true designation was Sir Richard Harrington, ofGreystone 
Abbey. As Mr. Harrington, however, of the — th Lancers 
his name was entered on the vessel’s books, since he did 
not, in the melancholy circumstances of the case, choose 
to assume his title until he should reach his own home. 

Those circumstances were indeed of a mournful, and 
even tragic, character. But a short time had elapsed since 
the late chief of the family, Sir George, had perished 
through a railway accident. And within a few days of the 
announcement of that disaster, the heir of Greystone and 
his broad acres, the young Sir Lionel, whose praises were 
on the lips of all who had known him by repute, had sud- 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


21 


denly met his death in India, in some obscure affray with 
marauders. 

It was soon known to all that, on board the steamer, 
was the splendid coffin, covered with crimson velvet and 
enriched with handles and name plate, nails and escut- 
cheon, silver gilt, in fact with all that wealth could do to 
show honor to the dead, of the brave young officer who 
had fallen by the hands of foes so ignoble, or, as others 
whispered, of disease caught in the malarious swamps of 
the jungle. And rumor declared, accurately enough, that 
the remains of the luckless young baronet were being 
brought home for interment in the family mausoleum, and 
averred that his brother, whose attachment to him was 
proverbial, was cut to the heart by his loss. 

“A fine young fellow, too, every inch of him,” said 
Major Rattan of the native Infantry ; “ but his brother 
was the better looking of the two, and one of those young- 
sters who seem to do everything well — a smart soldier and 
a thorough gentleman. I remember seeing them both at 
Delhi, where the — th Lancers were stationed when first 
they came out from England, though I never knew either 
of them personally.” 

Many a pitying glance was cast, by the ladies on board 
in special, towards the sad-eyed fellow passenger whose 
history had been recounted to them ; but no one ventured 
to intrude upon his too evident grief. 

A P. and O. steamer like most sea-going vessels in a hot 
climate, what with the constant association at meal times 
in the sumptuous saloon, and what with the long hours 
spent in company under the cool awning that throws its 
shade over the deck, affords plenty of opportunities for be- 
coming informally acquainted. But Sir Richard — to give 
him his true title — steadily, if unobtrusively, set his face 
against any such chance intimacies, and seldom exchanged 
a word save with the officers of the ship. 

At Port Said, a letter, lately arrived and duly addressed 
to “ Sir Richard Harrington, Bart.,” was put into the young 
man’s hands. This missive, which was decorously edged 
and sealed with black, was from the land-agent of the 
Harrington property, Julius Parker by name, and asked 
for instructions. 

The tenantry, Mr. Parker declared, were very desirous 
of giving their landlord such a welcome as had been usual 


22 


THE LADY E GER I A ; 


at Greystone on the advent of a new heir ; and he went on 
to speak of triumphal arches and illuminations, and parades 
of the local yeomanry and volunteers, and similar proofs of 
the affectionate regard of the neighborhood. 

Young Sir Richard lost not a moment in replying, by 
telegraph, to these well-meant but inopportune suggestions. 
He thanked his future neighbors for their good-will, but he 
was peremptory in requesting that nothing which savored 
of rejoicing should mar the solemn sadness of the occa- 
sion. 

He expressed a wish that the entrance hall of the old 
abbey should be hung with black, and that none but em- 
blems of mourning should be visible. And he asked that 
his return home, bringing with him his dead brother to be 
laid beside the father who had so lately preceded him to 
the grave, might be allowed to be as private as possible, 
and that no attempt at anything like a public reception 
should be tolerated. 

There was some repining when this message reached 
Greystone, and when Mr. Parker was compelled to coun- 
termand preparations which, to save time, he had on his 
own authority commenced. 

There are men who, with their wives and families, see 
in every event an occasion for a holiday, or perchance for 
a personal display, and then in that far Northern district 
there yet lingered something of the old feudal sentiment 
that cannot survive within hearing of the click of the 
steam shuttle or the thud of the steam hammer. 

Some of the tenantry were proud of the fact that their 
forefathers, led by Sir Hildebrand Harrington, had fol- 
lowed Prince Rupert’s banner at Marston and Naseby, and 
all had a liking for the ancient family under whose easy 
sway their predecessors had held their farms in the hal- 
cyon days of dear corn and French wars. 

It was coal, not pasturage or arable land, that had made 
the last three baronets so wealthy as they were justly re- 
puted to have been, for although the acreage of the Grey- 
stone estates was imposing, the soil itself was not remark- 
ably fertile, and the minerals that lay below the surface 
had proved by far more valuable than croft or field. How- 
ever, now that Sir Richard had spoken his mind so plainly, 
it was, as the agent explained, necessary to defer to his 
wishes. 


OK, BROUCHT TO LIGHT. 


2 3 


The Serapis arrived with proper punctuality at its des- 
tined port, and the residue of the journey, of course per- 
formed by railway, was uneventful enough. 

Mr. Parker, the agent, who had been for a second time 
communicated with by telegraph, had done his best to carry 
out the desire of his new employer, and when the mournful 
cortege reached Greystone, the gateway and the vast outer 
hall of the grand old abbey were found to have been 
draped with black, while the serving men, in their black 
liveries, stood drawn up in double file to receive their 
young master. 

On the house front was a hatchment, freshly painted 
with the heraldic insignia of the Harringtons, veiled with 
crape, while a black flag floated from the turret flagstaff, 
and the deep sound of tolling bells came floating from the 
tower of the distant church. 

At the railway station, six miles off, there had been no 
attempt at a demonstration of welcome. A carriage had 
been there, of course, as well as the hearse that had been 
ordered, and Mr. Parker had taken the respectful liberty 
of awaiting his principal on the platform ; but that was 
alb 

The funeral of the late Captain Harrington — of that 
young Sir Lionel who had been cut off so early — took place 
on the fourth day after the arrival at Greystone Abbey of 
the remains of its late lord. A fine funeral it was acknowl- 
edged to be, even by the poor, who are close critics and 
keen observers of such gloomy pageants. 

Mr. Parker, having carte blanche as to expense, had 
invoked the aid of a fashionable London undertaker, and 
the show lacked for nothing that taste and money could 
provide. Black plumes, black velvet, the sleekest and 
stateliest of black steeds, a hearse majestic enough to have 
been one of Pluto's State carriages, Parma violets, silver- 
tipped wands to be borne by well-drilled mutes, a pall stiff 
with embroidery in gold thread — all the upholstery and 
millinery of sorrow figured there. But in addition to this 
there were the long line of carriages, and the longer line, of 
pedestrians, whose presence proved the respect in which 
the name of Harrington was held in that countryside, and 
the personal sympathy which had been drawn forth by the 
untimely end of the young head of the house. 

There was a chapel attached to Greystone Abbey— when 


24 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


was a monastic pile without one ? — and beneath the flag- 
stones of its aisles and chancel many a mitred abbot and 
prior and monk had been laid in earth of old time. But 
the chapel had been disused since that stormy day when 
the Sir Gilbert Harrington of the period came with armed 
men and the king’s warrant to drive the brethren forth, to 
Starve or beg as they listed, and was a mere picturesque 
and roofless ruin. 

In the Parish church, and in what was called the Har- 
rington aisle, was the grand tomb of that ancient family, 
a mausoleum as superb as marble and bronze and gold 
leaf could make it, and it was that Sir Lionel might repose 
here amid ancestral coffins that his body had with such 
tender care been brought back from the far-off country 
where he had prematurely perished. The bells tolled for 
him as they had tolled but recently for his father, Sir 
George. 

On young Sir Richard, the chief mourner, all eyes were 
turned, as he followed his brother to the grave, and it was 
towards him that the good-will of the spectators seemed to 
turn as iron seeks the magnet. 

“ Poor lad — for he be little else ” — remarked more than 
one buxom north-country dame to her yeoman husband. 
*• A heavy heart he has, I’ll be bound, to look so sad as 
he does, and he so young and so comely too ! But I mind 
the brother that died in the Indies was bonnier even than 
he, for I’ve seen him pass, shooting, by our farm.” 

“ Yes, fine young fellows, both,” the less imaginative 
farmer would reply ; and so the procession moved on. 

At last the funeral was over, the assembly dispersed, 
and it was duly chronicled in the county newspapers how 
Sir Lionel Harrington, Bart., had been laid to rest at 
Grey stone among his kith and kin. 


CHAPTER Y. 

AT HURST ROYAL. 

In the great drawing room at Hurst Royal, the last and 
largest of a stately suite, and of which the ceiling and the 
walls were gorgeous with such painting and carved work 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


25 


as, since the middle of the eighteenth century, have never 
been attempted in English homes, the only daughter of the 
owner of the mansion sat alone : of the most noble owner, 
indeed, according to old fashioned terms of courtesy, for 
the house was that of the Marquess of Cheviot, and his 
daughter, admitted to be the most beautiful girl in that 
northern county, was the Lady Egeria Fitzurse. 

Very beautiful, sad, and pensive she now looked, with her 
raven-black hair, the large blue eyes, that are perhaps 
loveliest when associated with a wealth of ebon locks, and 
a face and figure comparable to the noblest ideal of some 
gifted sculptor. 

To the arts of dress she owed nothing. Her well-fitted 
costume was of the simplest black silk, and there was not 
so much as the glitter of an ornament to relieve it. A 
book lay unopened on the table beside her, but she seemed 
to have forgotten it, as she sat with clasped hands gazing 
dreamily before her. Her thoughts, evidently, were far 
away. 

The great drawing room of Hurst Royal has a pleasant 
outlook, across a rose garden, then bright with summer 
flowers ; across the wide park, with its mighty trees and 
rolling lawns and silvery stretch of swan-haunted water, 
until the prospect was bounded by blue hills of picturesque 
outline. 

A magnificent room it was, splendid with gold and color ; 
but there were those who thought that the true boast of 
Hurst Royal was the grand outer hall, the oldest part of 
the mansion, and which dated from a period earlier than 
the Norman Conquest itself, although traditionally said to 
have been planned by a Norman architect. 

On a Norman Vavasour, at any rate, if there be faith in 
charters, Raoul Fitzurse, had fief and mansion been be- 
stowed by King Edward the Confessor, and it was in that 
very hall that legend affirmed the marvelous cure of Sir 
Raoul’s eldest child, sick almost unto death, by the bless- 
ing and the touch of that consecrated monarch, on the 
occasion of the visit which was the origin of the name of 
Hurst Royal. 

Good folk in the eleventh century saw no difficulty in 
accepting the story. Had not the holy Edward, Confessor 
and King, not merely been made a saint while yet alive, but 
was not his power to work miracles a§ yvell attested as 
any event- in Saxon hagiography 2 


26 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


At any rate, there stood the fine old hall, with its mas- 
sive stones and beams of immemorial oak, blackened by 
time ; and there could be no reasonable doubt that it was 
still possessed by the ancient race whose founder had been 
a foreign courtier of the last English king of Cerdic’s line. 

So absorbed in thought had Lady Egeria been that she 
had failed to hear the tread of horses on the gravel with- 
out, or the loud clang of the hall bell, so that when the 
door of the grand drawing-room was thrown open, and 
“Sir Richard Harrington” announced by an obsequious 
groom of the chambers, she was all but startled by the 
abruptness of the transition of ideas. 

Lady Egeria half rose, and with quiet courtesy bowed 
her head, and then the visitor took the chair which the ser- 
vant placed for him, and these two were left alone. It 
was evident that the new lord of Greystone Abbey was but 
very slightly acquainted with the family at Hurst Royal, 
although a friendship of long date had existed between the 
house of Fitzurse and that of Harrington. 

It so happened that the most noble the Marquess of 
Cheviot had, during his married life, lived very much away 
from the county of which he was now Lord Lieutenant. 
It so happened also that Richard Harrington, since his 
boyhood, had been less frequently at home than was his 
brother. There was thus no sort of intimacy between the 
young baronet and his distinguished neighbor. 

“Papa is from home, Sir Richard, though I expect him 
hourly to return,” said Lady Egeria. “ He will regret to 
have missed the pleasure of seeing you, I am sure.” 

The sad-eyed young master of Greystone said that the 
regret would be mutual. He had chosen this visit as the 
first to return, in recognition of a call which Lord Cheviot 
had kindly paid him. 

It was now some ten days since the funeral, at which the 
marquess had made a point of being present, for the sake 
of old friendship with the late Sir George. All this talk 
was very frigid and formal, but when Sir Richard made 
some mention of Lady Egeria’s absent brother, a friend, 
as he believed, of poor Lionel, a sudden change came over 
the beautiful statue, as he had in his heart almost pro- 
nounced her to be, with whom he was conversing. Her blue 
eyes swam in tears, evoked by the mention of that name. 

“ Yes, Sir Richard,” said Lady Egeria, earnestly, “ my 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


27 


father and I were both shocked and sorry when we heard 
of — of the cruel misfortune that has befallen you. We 
feel for you, indeed ! ” 

She put out her hand, as she spoke, to meet his, and he 
bowed gravely as their fingers for the first time met. 

“ I thank you for your kind speech, and the kind 
thought that prompted it,” said the young baronet in a 
voice that quivered with emotion. Lord Norham, I think, 
will be sorry too, for he knew my poor brother well, 
though I scarcely remember to have exchanged a word 
with him myself.” 

“ Yes, Harold will feel it very much when he learns the 
news — has learned it perhaps. He is away in Norway, 
with his yacht and his fishing rods,” she added, “and 
changes his quarters so frequently that it is often long 
before our letters reach him.” 

Harold was Lord Norham, it need scarcely be said, 
only son and heir to the marquess, and as wayward and 
erratic a young nobleman as ever declined public life and 
parliamentary aspirations. 

Sometimes he was, as now, in Norway, roving among 
islets and fiords and fells for the more zealous persecution 
of salmon and reindeer. Anon the society journals would 
chronicle him as in Arabia, mixing himself up with tur- 
baned pilgrims or Wahabee fanatics, and bent on reaching 
some remote oasis, or gaining access to some mosque 
never profaned by Christian foot, and attractive by reason 
of the prestige of peril. And then he would be heard of 
as a mighty hunter west of the Rocky Mountains, or per- 
chance in South Africa, with a choice assortment of 
smoothbores and express rifles, and wearying out his dusky 
guides by the unsparing eagerness of his pursuit of elk and 
seacow, elephant and lion. 

He had a stable of good horses at Melton Mowbray, but 
seldom rode them over the green fields of Leicestershire, 
and was yet more seldom an ornament of Rotten Row or 
to London parties, while neither his father nor his would- 
be constituents could ever persuade him to represent 
Wortham, a borough which the marquess still believed to 
be almost as much his own by hereditary usage as the free- 
hold of Hurst Royal in that House of Commons from 
which he shrank with positive aversion. 

And then Sir Richard went on to say how general and 


28 


THE LAD V EGER LA ; 


widespread, in that part of India whence he had come, had 
been the expression of sympathy for his brother’s untimely 
fate. 

The conversation lasted thus for a few minutes, when, 
as Sir Richard was in the act of rising to take his leave, 
the sound of wheels was heard, and almost immediately 
afterwards the marquess came in, with outstretched hand 
and genial courtesy, to bid his young neighbor welcome to 
Hurst Royal. 

I knew Sir George very well — very well indeed — at one 
time of my life,” said the marquess ; “ and your poor 
brother too ; so that I feel, Sir Richard, as if you and 1 
ought to be friends, as those who have borne the names of 
Harrington and Fitzurse before us have been for many a 
year.” 

A pleasant-spoken, fine-looking old man was the Most 
Noble the Marquess, chronicled in the “ Peerage ” as Mar- 
quess and Earl of Cheviot, Earl of Norharn, Baron Nor- 
ham, and Baron Fitzurse, K.G. He had a healthy, pink 
face, and grey hair that became him well enough, and was 
simply what he seemed, an unaffected, hearty, generous 
gentleman of high degree. He never lost sight of the fact 
that his exalted position entailed duties as well as con- 
ferred rights, and these duties he had faithfully tried to dis- 
charge, to the best of his power, throughout his life. And 
it was a source of vexation to him that Harold his son, 
cleverer, as his father frankly owned, than the present 
wearer of the strawberry-leaved coronet, could not be 
brought to see that he had duties too, and to do something 
for the country in which he had so large a stake. 

“ I have just come back from Silverseam. I went over 
there to have a talk with the men this morning,” said the 
marquess, after a few more words had been exchanged. 
“ Perhaps you may have heard, Sir Richard, of the bad 
example which my people are setting there. It ought — 
excuse me — to have an interest for yourself, since you are 
the owner of as many collieries as belong to me.” 

“ I have heard,” answered the baronet, after an instant’s 
thought, “that some of the miners on your property, Lord 
Cheviot, are on strike.” 

“ Indeed they are, and at Silverseam in particular,” said 
the marquess, emphatically, for Silverseam was a pit ol 
especial value, and its produce commanded the highest 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


n 

price in the market. “ Silly fellows ! they are resolved to 
kill the goose that has laid golden eggs for generations 
past, and only think of coercing me, and not a bit of the 
empty cupboards and the pale children they would soon 
see in their homes if they hold out. I told them I could 
wait, and would shut up the pit for the next ten years if 
they chose, but that I would not be bullied into unreason- 
able terms ; and I pointed out how good and steady their 
wages had been for years, and how the standard of com- 
fort had improved during my own recollection, and they 
could not deny the truth of what I said ; but I soon saw, 
by the obstinate look on their faces, that they would not 
be convinced. Some London agitator has got hold of them, 
and bewitched them, I think, and they are quite ready to 
pinch their own families if they can thwart me. And yet 
I’ve been their friend, when I knew how.” 

“ So I have heard, Lord Cheviot,” responded Sir Richard, 
“ short as my stay at Greystone has been. I hope, how- 
ever, soon to hear that the colliers have listened to 
reason.” 

Soon after this he rose to go, declining all hospitable 
proffers of refreshment after his ride, but replying neatly 
enough to the gracious words in which at parting his noble 
host expressed a wish that their acquaintance might 
ripen into intimacy. 

“ For we are very near neighbors, are we not? ” added 
Lord Cheviot ; and it was quite true that but a trifling dis- 
tance separated the Abbey from Hurst Royal. 

“ A nice young fellow enough ; but I think I liked his 
brother best, eh, Egeria — what say you ? ” was the mar- 
quess’ remark when the door had closed upon the depart- 
ing guest. 

“It is difficult to tell how we may like any one, after so 
brief an acquaintance,” replied his daughter, turning her 
face away. 

“Very true,” said Lord Cheviot, glancing up at the 
portrait of his late wife, which hung on the wall above, as 
if to ask her opinion of the new master of Greystone. 
“Well, these rebels of mine at Silverseam have taken up 
more of my time than I reckoned upon, and I have letters 
to write before the post bag goes out.” 

The marquess therefore repaired to . the library, the 
room in which he habitually passed his time, and was soon 


3o 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


deep in the correspondence from which a great peer can 
hardly be exempt, and which the head of the house of 
Fitzurse certainly never tried to shirk. 

Meanwhile Sir Richard Harrington rode slowly home- 
ward, so slowly as to astonish the groom who followed 
him, and who knew his master’s preference for quick ridirg. 
He was evidently deep in meditation, with his hat pulled 
down over his knitted brows. And yet his thoughts were 
not with his dead brother, but with the lovely girl he had 
just left, and whom he had found alone at this his first 
entry into Hurst Royal, the beautiful statue that for one 
moment, as by the art of magic, had seemed to be quick- 
ened with warm life, and had then sunk back into almost 
the repose of the chiselled marble to which he had likened 
her. 


CHAPTER VI. 

IN THE BLUE BOUDOIR. 

When once more alone, Lady Egeria again rose, and, with 
her head erect, and her statuesque figure looking pre- 
eminently graceful, crossed the grand old hall that in 
ancestral days had witnessed many a feast and many a 
council, and, with slow step, went up the wide, open stair- 
case, with its ancient ballustrades, carved with flowers and 
foliage, and, as she passed on, sadly, but almost inaudibly, 
murmured the words — 

“ My love ! My love ! ” 

She traversed the wide gallery that runs round the huge 
hall, and, opening a door, found herself in the pretty 
morning room, hung with blue silk, and commanding a 
view of the wild hills to the westward, and of a little 
lakelet, rock bordered, which was included in the grounds 
of Hurst Royal, which was her own peculiar domain. 
Once there, she rang the bell nearest to her hand. Her 
French maid glided in almost as soon as the bell was 
touched. 

“ Louise, ’’.inquired her mistress, “ do you know if Miss 
Mavina is still waiting below, or whether she has returned 
home ? ” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


3i 


“ She waits, miladi,” replied, with a strong Provencal 
accent, the maid who had been called Louise, and whose 
swarthy cheek and black eyes told that she was from the 
south. “ Yes, Miss Mavina Malstock is still downstairs, 
and waits your ladyship’s commands.” 

“ I will see her now,” rejoined Lady Egeria, indiffer- 
ently. 

Now Mavina Malstock did not at all like being kept 
waiting below, either in the little green drawing-room or in 
the rich and spacious conservatory, while Lady Egeria 
received visitors of her own rank. Nevertheless, she 
came, radiant, into the room, her face dressed in smiles 
and beaming with affectionate regard for her aristocratic 
friend. A pretty girl enough, but of a strange style of 
prettiness, and with an undefined something in her expres- 
sion that ought not, perhaps, to have inspired the 
confidence that we instinctively accord to the candid and 
the frank. Her complexion was clear and pale ; her 
features good ; her abundant hair was delicately fine, and 
almost flaxen, contrasting strangely with a pair of Oriental 
eyes ; long, sleepy eyes of darkest grey, fringed with dark 
lashes, such eyes as suit the Persian or the Arab, but are 
rarely seen here at home. Mavina was the daughter of the 
Wortham doctor — Dr Malstock by courtesy — one of those 
useful practitioners whose gigs are familiar with every by- 
road for miles around. 

She had been a protegee of the late marchioness, now 
dead some three years, and who had once been a reigning 
beauty, then a leader of London society, and who, to the 
end of her career, had retained the frivolous and worldly 
habits of her fashionable life. 

It had been one of the marchioness’ whims to patronize, 
as a child and as a grown girl, Mavina Malstock. The 
doctor’s daughter had a fine voice and much musical 
talent, and Lady Cheviot had spared no cost in providing 
for her such advantages of tuition as London alone could 
supply. Presents and petting and education were the 
benefits for which Mavina had to thank the great lady at 
Hurst Royal, and, when she died, the marchioness had 
recommended her to her daughter’s goodwill. 

“ Be kind to poor Mavina,” Lady Cheviot had said, 
exactly as if speaking of some four-footed favorite, and 
Lady Egeria had complied with her mother’s wish, and had 


3 2 


THE LADY E GER/A ; 


never forgotten her humble friend at Wortham, a tow*' 
«ome three miles distant from Hurst Royal by the carriage 
road, and within an easy walk by stiles and footpath. 

“ I fear you are tired of waiting for me,” said Lady 
Egeria, graciously. 

“ To see you, dear Lady Egeria, I could wait for ever ! H 
was the effusive answer. “ Your kindness and yourfrieiifb 
ship are the only comfort I have now, since at home, as 
you know, my lips are sealed, and I never so much as 
mention his name.” 

“ I know that, and I am sorry there should be such 
restraint,” said Lady Egeria, gently, “ Sit down here by 
me, then, and let me know the news, if you have any.” 

“ I called at the post office on my way here,” said Miss 
Malstock, despondently ; “ and always with the same 
result : ‘No letter for you to-day, miss ! ’ I have learned 
to hate the words that imply a heartbreak to me, for, Lady 
Egeria, I love him very dearly.” 

“ Poor Mavina ! Poor girl ! ” said her noble friend, 
quite tenderly, for there was a ring of truth in the last: 
speech that touched her. “ Have you seen the lawyer — 
that Mr. — ? ” 

Lady Egeria hesitated here, and it was Mavina who 
completed the sentence. “ Holt, Lady Egeria — Jasper 
Holt. Yes, I have seen him, and he has promised to do 
what he can for me, especially since I told him of you." 
ladyship’s kind offer to ” 

“ To pay him for his work, most certainly. I would dc 
more than that for you, Mavina, in a matter on which you 
feel so deeply,” returned the marquess’ daughter. “The 
man is, I believe, a sharp solicitor, and, perhaps, he may 
be able to prosecute inquiries that would be impossible U 
you or me. This long, unbroken silence is, I admit, ver; 
singular indeed.” 

“ It is — indeed it is ! ” earnestly replied Mavina, bending 
forward, and fixing her dilating eyes on the beautiful face 
of her patroness. “ It is so unlike my poor Walter, 
Rolling stone and ne’er-do-well as his ill-wishers called 
Walter Travis, he was always true to me; and in all hi*, 
wanderings never failed to write — never ! And now three 
of my letters have remained unanswered, and my very 
birthday, which, as he well knew, was last week, has been 
unnoticed. He never failed to write to me before wherever 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


33 


he was — in China, in Australia, or in India. I am sure 
there is something wrong.” 

“ Might not his employer have sent him on some 
mission far up the country, perhaps, and where even a 
post office may be a rarity ? ” suggested Lady Egeria, after 
a moment’s meditation. 

Mavina Malstock shook her head. “ I think he would 
have written before he went,” she said, slowly. “ There 
must be something amiss — something wrong.” 

“ Or,” hinted Lady Egeria, “ he may have determined 
to try his fortune elsewhere, and this may have caused the 
delay. It is a mere conjecture, of course.” 

“ Drowning men catch at straws, they say,” replied Miss 
Malstock, half bitterly ; “ and I would welcome any idea 
that should make me fancy Walter alive and well — any- 
thing but that he had grown tired of caring for me. I 
should like that, I confess ! ” she added, with a quivering 
lip, as she tried to smile. 

Lady Egeria was certain, from all that she had heard, 
that there was no ground for such a tormenting doubt. 

“ If ever there was a case of true love and constancy,” 
she said, ‘‘those qualities seem to exist, my poor friend, in 
this Mr. Travis and yourself. And I should be glad if, as 
in the story books, the usual reward of true lovers should 
be yours.” 

“ He will never come back, unless in prosperity — rich 
and successful, I mean, Lady Egeria,” said Mavina, 
decisively. “ And ill luck has pursued him so consistently 
from the day of his leaving England. Even for my sake 
— and he does care for me — he would not meet the sneers 
and cold looks of those near here who knew him as a boy, 
and return as poor as he went out. On that one point his 
resolve is like steel. You never saw him, Lady Egeria ? ” 

“ Never,” replied Miss Malstock’s strangely-chosen 
confidante. “ The name I know well, and I can remember 
the old Admiral, his father, as dining here at Hurst Royal 
when I was very young. He died years ago, I understand, 
and Mr. Walter Travis has now no home to go to.” 

Mavina admitted that such was the case. The prospects, 
she said, of her betrothed had not for some time past 
appeared, either to her or to him, as particularly hopeful 
or brilliant, but such as they were she was convinced that 
he would not have thrown them over lightly. And then 

3 


34 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


she went on to speak of her interview with the solicitor, 
Jasper Holt. 

“ He thinks there is something bad — something unfair — 
about the business,” she said, “ and he is a shrewd, sharp 
attorney, good at ferreting out evidence. He heard me 
out patiently enough, and made some notes of what I told 
him. The difficulty at first was to make him take a real 
interest in affairs so far away, but, partly by the mention 
of your name, my lady, I got him to declare that he would 
be active in the matter. And, perhaps, Lady Egeria, if 
you would condescend to see him ” 

But this was not a duty of friendship which Lady Egeria 
was willing to assume. 

“ I would do much for you, Mavina, and my purse 
shall be at your disposal, whatever may be the expense of 
the inquiry,” she said, “but I had rather not confer with 
this Mr. Holt. Papa,” she added, “ who would not dream 
of employing him, would not be pleased if I were to 
encourage him to come to Hurst Royal. But I think you 
have chosen well in applying to him to help you profession- 
ally, and money shall not be spared, on my part, though I 
prefer to have no actual communication with Mr. Holt.” 

And indeed the name of Jasper Holt, occasionally 
mentioned by the marquess, and not in terms of praise or 
liking, was by no means in good odor in that aristocratic 
mansion. 

Mavina was profuse in her thanks. The lawyer, she 
explained, had some correspondent — a connection, indeed 
— in that part of the country in which Walter Travis was a 
resident. And the lawyer had promised to write to this 
correspondent in terms sufficiently urgent to ensure a 
prompt reply by letter or telegraph. 

“ The next time you can spare me a few minutes, dear, 
dear friend, I hope I may have better news to tell,” said 
Miss Malstock, as at length she rose to go. 

And Lady Egeria touched her hand at parting, and bade 
her be of good cheer, and then Mavina, half smiling, half 
tearful, got herself out of the blue boudoir and down the 
stately stairs, and trudged back along the well-remembered 
footpath that led towards her own humbler home at Wor- 
tham. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


35 


CHAPTER VII. 

JASPER HOLT. 

The post bag at Greystone Abbey did not arrive till later 
than the customary hour for the delivery of letters at an 
English country house, and it was nearly one o’clock when 
Sir Richard, in his library, received the bag, and with a 
preoccupied air, and almost mechanically, unlocked it and 
examined its contents. Newspapers and letters there 
were in plenty. Seldom, in these days of circulars, of 
anniversaries, bubble companies, and sanguine projectors, 
can a man in so conspicuous a position as was Sir Richard 
Harrington escape a hail shower of applications to take 
shares, lend his name, or subscribe for purposes more or 
less benevolent or profitable. Short, however, as had been 
his tenure of the property, he had already learned that 
there is a sameness in such proposals, and that the waste- 
paper basket is a domestic maelstrom best fitted to engulf 
nine-tenths of the volunteer correspondence of the period. 

Suddenly Sir Richard’s listless look vanished as he 
espied, lurking among the other packets, like Cleopatra’s 
asp among the pomegranates and purple grape clusters, a 
letter from India. He had read and replied to letters from 
India since his return from that country, as was but natural. 
His kind old colonel had written, so had four or five of his 
brother officers ; but these missives he had received with 
perfect equanimity. 

When Seymour, or Conyers, or Graham — good fellows all 
— wrote to him, what mattered it that they dated from 
Futtehpore instead of from Aldershot? The only differ- 
ence was they talked of pig sticking and snipe shooting 
and tiffins, instead of tennis and afternoon tea and jaunts 
to the races. 

This letter, however, not even enclosed in an envelope, 
but stiffly folded and formally addressed, in a quaint, 
crabbed, but very legible hand, attracted attention by the 
very peculiarity of its appearance. 


3 6 


THE LAD V E GEE LA ; 


Somehow, the baronet hesitated to open it, until, after 
growing ashamed at his own timidity, he roughly broke 
the seal, unfolded the document, and began to read. As 
he did so, his color faded away, and his face grew white 
and set and hard as marble. 

The letter was not a very long one. It was penned in 
the same quaint hand as that in which the address had 
been written — the hand of a person well accustomed to 
write, but not, perhaps, to write in the English language 
and the Roman characters. Nevertheless, the letter, which 
was oddly expressed, but as to grammar faultless, was 
wholly in English, though the signature was in Persian or 
Arabic characters, while below it was an elaborate seal or 
stamp, impressed on the paper, according to Oriental 
usage, not in wax, but in ink of pale blue color. 

Three times, and yet a fourth, did the owner of Grey- 
stone peruse that letter, and then, with a heavy frown and 
firmly compressed lips, he carefully refolded it and placed 
it in an inner breast pocket of his coat. 

He left the library, snatched his hat, and for the next 
hour or so, with folded arms and downcast look, paced to 
and fro along a terrace of the garden, where high hedges 
of ancient yew, clipped and trained, shielded him from 
prying eyes. 

The luncheon hour came, and the gong duly sounded, 
but, to the dismay of the old butler, not a morsel could the 
young master of the Abbey bring himself to touch. Very 
late he went into the dining-room and tossed off two glasses 
of sherry, and then rang the bell sharply. 

“ Tell them to saddle my horse, Morris, ” he said, in a 
harsher tone than was usual with him, for Sir Richard was 
a smoothly-spoken personage ; “ the chestnut, and to be 
quick about it. I want no groom after me to-day.” 

Now among the saddle horses at Greystone Abbey, 
which had a well-stored stable, there were two chestnut 
horses, both of which the baronet had occasionally ridden. 

“ Did you mean Mayfly, Sir Richard, please, or Wild ” 

the butler was beginning, when he was savagely interrupted. 

“ Confound the brute’s name ! What can it matter so 
that he can carry me ? ” burst out the baronet, and then 
seemed to remember that his irritability might be ill con- 
strued. “ Never mind, Morris,” he said, with some 
attempt at good humor ; “ I have had something to worry 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


37 


me : that’s all. Wildfire let it be, by all means ; but tell 
James he will not be wanted to go with me to-day.” 

’Wildfire, a fine hunter, of whose prowess across country 
the late Sir George had been vain, was soon saddled and 
brought round, and Richard Harrington mounted and rode 
off as composedly as he could, until he was past the lodge 
gate and out of his own grounds. Then he struck his spurs 
into Wildfire’s flanks, and dashed off at a furious pace 
along an unfrequented bridle road, which, as he well knew, 
afforded the shortest cut from Greystone to Wortham. 

When he reached the outskirts of the borough, he drew 
rein, and looked about him. Presently he caught sight of 
a boy, a lathy lad of fourteen, in shabby fustian, and with 
unkempt, dark hair protruding from beneath a battered 
billycock hat. 

“ Do you know Mr. Holt’s house, my lad ? ” called out 
the baronet. 

“Lawyer Holt? Yes, I does,” rejoined the boy, after 
an instant’s conference with himself. 

“ Then show me where he lives, and I’ll give you a 
shilling for your trouble. Hold my horse while I’m in the 
office, and instead of a shilling, it shall be half-a-crown.” 

“ Done with you, governof ! ” replied the boy, whose 
aspect suggested poaching, selling “correct cards” at race 
meetings, and other precarious methods of earning a liveli- 
hood. “ This way, please — by the lime kiln, and round by 
the mill.” 

And he broke into a shambling run that kept with the 
trot of Harrington’s powerful horse, until they reached the 
quiet street where, on the green door of a modest red-brick 
house, glittered the brass door-plate on which was inscribed, 
“ Mr. j. Holt, Solicitor.’ 

Sir Richard swung himself lightly down from the saddle, 
put the reins into the grimy hand of his guide, and rang 
the door bell. An office lad, with inky fingers and a thread- 
bare coat, the only apology for a clerk whom Mr. Holt 
could or did afford to maintain, came promptly at the 
sound. 

“ Mr. Holt’s within, sir. Please step in,” he said, re- 
spectfully ; and, bidding the boy who held the horse walk 
that animal up and down, but keep near, the baronet en- 
tered. 

“Say ‘ Sir Richard Harrington would be glad of a few 


3 * 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


minutes' conversation on business/” said the visitor, in a 
voice that probably was quite audible, not merely in the 
narrow passage, but in the office itself, the door of which 
was instantly opened. 

“ Pray walk in, sir ! ” said Jasper Holt. “ I am quite at 
your service for the moment, and you, Mivers, can just step 
round to the County Court bailiffs office, and ask if those 
writs are made out yet.” 

Mivers, the office lad, was too well used to his master's 
ways, and too aware of the contracted space of the legal 
premises, to manifest surprise, but took down his hat from 
its peg, and went, leaving the coast clear. 

Inducted into the office, littered with papers and parch- 
ments, and seated in a chair hastily cleared for him, Sir 
Richard took a survey of his host, whom he had never 
seen, but of whom he had, in earlier years, often heard, as 
of a shrewd practitioner, bold and unscrupulous, who 
defended poachers, vindicated the characters of servants 
dismissed for theft, and made himself generally obnoxious 
to the magnates and respectabilities of Wortham and its 
neighborhood. He could not but own that the attorney 
was, in appearance, a very remarkable person. 

Jasper Holt, though partly bald, and with a fringe of 
jet-black hair falling on his coat collar, though ungainly of 
figure, very short and very broad, was almost handsome by 
reason of the energy and intelligence that his strongly- 
marked countenance had impressed on all its lineaments. 
He was still young — or, at any rate youngish — and had 
very white teeth and very firm lips ; a high forehead ; the 
blackest of whiskers ; and eyes that were bright — over- 
bright — audacious eyes that never flinched, and that sel- 
dom failed to read the inner nature of those with whom he 
came in contact, and of whose foibles, if fame spoke truly, 
he was not slow to take advantage. 

“What can I do for you, Sir Richard? ” asked the law- 
yer, as coolly as if clients of the baronet’s calibre were 
often seen in his exiguous domains ; as coolly as if he did 
not know that Gudge and Tatham, of Crown Street, 
Wortham, had been the Harrington family solicitors for 
three generations past. 

“ I want your help, Mr. Holt,” said the baronet, blandly : 
“ and on your discretion I feel sure that I can rely.” 

“ You are pleased to be complimentary, Sir Richard/’ 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


39 


replied Jasper, with his dubious smile. “ My discretion, 
and my poor wits and knowledge of the law, are at the 
disposal of my clients. I shall be pleased, myself, if I am 
to understand that our relations are to be those of lawyer 
and client.” 

The young chief of the house of Harrington bowed 
assent. 

“ I should not have trespassed on your valuable time, 
Mr. Holt, were it not that there is business of importance 
on which I desire to consult you.” 

Jasper Holt’s white teeth and black eyes seemed to 
glisten with unholy lustre as he rubbed his large hands 
together and reiterated the expression of his willingness to 
be helpful. 

“ I wonder — I do wonder why he does not go to Gudge 
and Tatham, and, if not, what is the dirty work that he 
wants me to do.” Thus ran the attorney’s thoughts, but 
nothing of this betrayed itself in the expression of his eyes 
or mouth. 

“ The fact is, Mr. Holt, that I am in need of — of a con- 
siderable sum of ready money,” was the baronet’s reluc- 
tant confession. 

“ Whew ! ” returned Jasper, arching his thick eyebrows, 
and as completely astonished as a man of his experience 
could be. Commonplace and customary as it is to be in 
want of that useful commodity, Mr. Holt had never 
dreamed that the young master of Greystone could, for 
years to come, have any difficulty on that score. The 
Wortham lawyer knew to a nicety the average amount of 
Sir Richard’s large income, and knew, too, how hard it was 
for the veriest spendthrift to make much progress, in a few 
weeks, on the dismal road to ruin. 

“ I should say, Sir Richard, that money, with your re- 
sources, could be easily raised,” said Jasper. “ May I ask 
the amount that you require, and how soon ? ” 

“ The money should be ready in six weeks. The amount 
rvould be seventeen thousand pounds, to be borrowed on 
mortgage, I suppose,” said Sir Richard, twisting his mous- 
tache. 

The solicitor stared a little. “It is a large sum,” he 
said, slowly ; “ not, of course, large in proportion to your 
great rent roll, Sir Richard, or the extent of your fine 
property, which is, I believe, unencumbered ; but still a 


40 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


lump of money on which to lay one’s hands so quickly, the 
more particularly if, as I divine, you would prefer the 
business to be kept quite private.” 

“ Quite private, if you please,” was the decisive answer. 
“ I have no wish to set neighboring gossips talking as to 
my affairs.” 

“ That’s why he was ashamed to call on the Crown 
Street slow coaches,” reflected Jasper, irreverently, and 
then said that he had no doubt that he could find a lender 
who would be discreet as well as .accommodating, though 

perhaps the rate of interest might be ” 

“ Hang the interest ! ” broke out the baronet, im- 
patiently. “ I’ll pay it, whatever it is, if only this matter 
is properly managed. You see, Mr. Holt, that I got into 
a scrape out there in India — no fault of mine, perhaps, but 
so it is — and I must pay the penalty. I have had notice 
that bills to the amount of seventeen thousand pounds 
have been drawn upon me by a Parsee firm at Bombay, 
Trisetjee and Son, and will be presented for payment at 
my London bankers in seven weeks from this date or less. 
It is essential that these bills should be honored, and I 
look to you to provide for it. I will sign anything, or 
agree to anything, in reason, but I wish the whole story of 

the borrowing to be kept ” 

“ Dark ! ” put in the smiling lawyer, completing the 
sentence — “ dark as the grave, Sir Richard, ha ! ha ! ” and 
then, as he noticed his visitor’s mourning attire, and saw a 
look of disgust flit across his face, suddenly became as 
serious as an owl. 

“ I had better write you a line, Sir Richard, when I have 
had time to look round,” he said, civilly. “ By Tuesday 
or Wednesday next I hope I shall have found some 
moneyed party on whom I can rely. And then perhaps we 
could arrange an interview ? ” 

Sir Richard assented, thanked Mr. Holt for coming so 
promptly into his views, and then, though not with a very 
good grace, shook hands with his new legal adviser, and left 
the office. He put the promised half-crown into the boy’s 
ready hand, and, grasping Wildfire’s bridle, mounted, and 
was about to ride off, when an idea struck him. 

“ What’s your name, my boy ? ” he asked. 

“ Jerry, sir ! ” was the answer. 

“ Then, Jerry, you’ll not recollect me unless I remember 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


41 


you,” said the baronet. “ Do as I bid you, and more half- 
crowns may come in your way yet.” 

“ I’m fly, governor ! ” said the lad, with a grin and a 
touch of his battered hat, and then Sir Richard started to 
return to Greystone. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“WHY DO I NOT LIKE HIM?” 

There was a garden party at Old Court, a country house 
not very far from Hurst Royal, at which Lady Egeria, and 
her father also, had promised to be present. Indeed, Mr. 
Redmayne — they always called him Squire in his own 
parish — his wife, his son, and his comely daughters were 
among those neighbors of whom the marquess and Lady 
Egeria saw the most. The latter had asked for an in- 
vitation for Mavina Malstock, and had found herself, as it 
were, compelled to drive over with her in what she called 
her basket to Old Court, the marquess as usual preferring 
to ride, although she would have liked better to go alone. 

Lady Egeria had two carriages in general use. There 
was the great yellow barouche, emblazoned with coronets, 
lined with white silk, and drawn by high-stepping greys. 
But the favorite equipage was the shell-shaped basket, 
small and low, with its four cream-colored ponies, faultless 
and well matched, and its two tiny postillions in dark 
green, while another child in livery sat demurely perched 
behind, his arms folded and his back turned towards his 
noble mistress, the seat being one reversed as on a 
dogcart. 

It was not long before the lodge gates of the squire’s 
little park, and the fine half-timbered house, built towards 
the close of the fifteenth century, were reached, but 
already the rest of the guests, not very numerous, had 
assembled. 

Lady Egeria’s well-fitting robe of white serge, trimmed 
and fastened with bows of lilac ribbon, her long and per- 
fectly adjusted gloves, and the small toque of lilac that 
rested on her raven hair, set off the graceful stateliness of 
her figure to the fullest advantage. Never had she looked 
lovelier. 


42 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


Mavina, too, attracted notice. In her light-blue costume, 
and hat trimmed with marguerites, she looked certainly a 
very pretty girl. Alice and Maude Redmayne were 
pretty, too, and so were the two daughters of Mr. Ham- 
mond, the rector of the parish in which Hurst Royal lay, 
and there were some four or five other young ladies with 
some pretensions to good looks. 

For but one face, however, had Sir Richard Harrington, 
as the phrase goes, any eyes. He had been made welcome 
at Hurst Royal on several occasions since paying his first 
formal call ; had dined there repeatedly ; had won golden 
opinions, perhaps on account of his being an admirable 
listener when he chose, from the good-natured marquess, 
and was rumored to be Lady Egeria’s devoted admirer. 
He was himself of a goodlier presence than any of the 
male guests, eclipsing even handsome Harry Redmayne, 
the heir of Old Court, who was in the Guards, and of 
whom his sisters, themselves much admired, were ex- 
cessively proud. 

It was a pleasant party, though not a large one. There 
were courts, of course, for tennis, and there was archery, 
and a big white marquee had been pitched on the lawn 
among the great elms, wherein a sumptuous luncheon had 
been provided. After a brief delay, during which the 
groups were chatting on the lawn or sauntering under the 
trees, the squire came forward to offer his arm and to lead 
Lady Egeria into the tent, followed two and two by the 
other guests, of whom the marquess, with Mrs. Redmayne, 
brought up the rear. 

A'handsome luncheon it was, with its pretty show of 
fresh-gathered flowers and crystal and silver, and all the 
more appetizing beneath that snowy roof of canvas, above 
which gay flags fluttered, while the music of the band 
without came merrily streaming in, along with the summer 
air, through the doorway. 

The liveried servants caught the spirit of the occasion, 
and waited more briskly and intelligently on the company 
than ever they had done within doors, and the popping of 
champagne corks and the clatter of knives and forks 
mingled with bursts of silvery laughter and the sound of 
animated voices. 

The good squire of Old Court was the very soul of hos- 
pitable kindness. Most of those present knew each other 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


43 


well, and the very curates forgot to be shy within ten 
minutes of their being seated at the well-spread board. 

Luncheon over, the business, or rather the sports, of the 
day began. In Clara and Lucy Hammond, the rector’s 
second and third daughters, the givers of the entertain- 
ment had secured the two best tennis players in that 
division of the county, while with the bow Maud Red- 
mayne, winner of silver arrows and gold medals at many 
an archery meeting, was unsurpassed. 

Then there was boating on an ornamental sheet of 
water, studded with willow islets, and there was, later on, 
a dance got up in a pavilion that was called the summer 
house, and that stood on a broad grassy terrace, up and 
down which the peacocks habitually strutted. 

Yes, it was a pleasant party, on that hot and cloudless 
day, when not the most inveterate croaker could spy out a 
cloud to threaten one of those untimely showers that in 
our variable climate so often mar a joyous, open-air 
assembly. 

It was out of pure good nature that Lady Egeria had 
contrived that Mavina Malstock should be amongst the 
invited. The girl, she knew, was fretful and despondent 
about the lover of whom, as yet, she had heard no tidings ; 
and it would be well for her, so her patroness deemed, 
that she should have something to distract her thoughts of 
such dark imaginings as those that usually haunted her. 

Sir Richard’s attentions to tfie beautiful daughter of his 
noble neighbor were marked, but they were gracefully 
rendered, and there was nothing in the fact of his admira- 
tion to challenge censure or comment. There seemed to 
be no reason why a young baronet of great fortune and 
long descent should not aspire to the daughter of a mar- 
quess, and probably Lord Cheviot, who often eulogized his 
new friend, would have been willing enough to receive him 
as a son-in-law. 

With Lady Egeria herself it was very different. She 
almost blamed herself for the groundless aversion, the 
shrinking and dislike, that she could not quite repress, and 
which made Sir Richard odious to her. Fair of face and 
soft of voice though he was, gentle as were his manners, 
brave and honorable as he was thought to be, she was 
never quite at ease in his company, and responded in no 
way to what his words and looks implied. She was polite 
in her replies to his efforts to please, but nothing more. 


44 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


The two sets of tennis players plied their rackets. 
There were young men enough present to keep up so 
popular a game without any aid from Sir Richard Harring- 
ton, who declined to take part in the contest. Lady 
Egeria never played tennis ; nor, therefore, would he. The 
sun shone hotly down, and the competitors were not sorry 
when champagne cup and claret cup, alternating with ices 
and coffee, were brought round. 

“ This weather must make you fancy yourself in India 
again,” said the kindly marquess to Sir Richard, who was 
too politic to undeceive his noble friend as to the superior 
potency of that globe of fire that in the flaming Indian 
heaven rains its fiery darts on yellow plain and steaming 
jungle. 

“ You would find it cooler, I think, Lady Egeria,” said 
the young baronet, “ down by the lake there, where the 
tall elms throw such a shadow over the water. Here, I 
think, there is less shade than anywhere else in the 
grounds. If you will accept me as your guide ” 

He offered his escort as he spoke, and with a cold bow 
Lady Egeria accepted it ; and the two walked together 
towards the ornamental sheet of water, with its pinnace 
and boats lying ready to hand, its willow fringed isles, and 
flotillas of aquatic birds, differing in size and color. 

“ The squire is proud of his black swans. They were a 
present sent him by a nephew who has settled in Aus- 
tralia, I believe,” said Lady Egeria, after the silence had 
grown painful. “ I do not think, Sir Richard, that you 
have these in India.” 

“No; Indian swans are white, like English ones,” 
replied the baronet, with a smile ; and for a time no more 
was said. 

“ Mine is a lonely life,” said Sir Richard Harrington, 
again breaking the silence that prevailed; “and I feel 
more as if I were some hermit in his cave than the real 
master of a great house like mine. There is something 
ghostly and sad about Greystone Abbey, now that I am 
all alone there, and that there is nothing to brighten it, or 
my life. I was young, you see, Lady Egeria, to have the 
property and all its cares devolve on me.” 

“ I can well understand that you must find it so,” 
answered Lady Egeria, quite cordially. There had been a 
ring of truthfulness in his voice when he was speaking of 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


45 


his own solitary state, just as there had been in Mavina’s 
when bewailing the neglect of the man she loved, to which 
the noble daughter of the house of Fitzurse could not but 
meet with a sympathy that in one instance at least was 
mistaken. Her words were music to the ears of the young 
baronet, who was emboldened to say — • 

“ Ah, if I could but hope one day to have the happiness 
of bringing home a bride I could really worship, and whose 
lover, whose slave, I should be proud through life to be, 
how different would my prospects seem — how would the 
happy future gild the grey monotony of the present ! ” 
This was a romantic speech, but not, after all, a formal 
declaration, and therefore the marquess’ daughter was 
able quietly to reply that probably Sir Richard, at his age 
and in his worldly position, need scarcely despair of 
happiness in life. 

“ Yes, but suppose I had set my hopes on one bright 
star, and all the rest seemed dross to me,” pleaded Sir 
Richard — “ suppose dear, dearest Lady Egeria, if I may 
call you so ” 

“ You may not ! ” said Lady Egeria, haughtily, and draw- 
ing back from his side — “ certainly not ! ” 

“ Ah ! ” said the young man, bitterly ; “ I know, or 
rather I feel, Lady Egeria, why you are so cruel and so cold. 
It was for my brother — for poor lost Lionel — that you did 
care, and that is why you repulse me when I would have 
you listen as I pour out my heart to you.” 

“ You have no right to speak thus to me,” indignantly 
replied Lady Egeria. I have given you no such right, 
Sir Richard, and I must request, insist, that you will not 
repeat what you have presumed to say.” 

“ Pardon me, I will not so offend again,” was the rejoin- 
der. “ Only say that I am forgiven, and I will vex you no 
more.” 

Sir Richard said these words admirably, and with a 
chivalric contrition and sadness in his voice and bearing 
that almost touched Lady Egeria’s proud nature. She 
bent her head in assent. 

“ Let us forget all this, and be friends,” she said. 

Neither of the two, absorbed in this conversation, had 
heard the rustling of branches near, or noted a pair of 
grey eyes watching them with a baleful expression from 
behind the screen of the rhododendrons close by. 


4 6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


“ I had better now leave you perhaps,” said the baronet, 
humbly. 

“ Perhaps you would be so kind as to find Miss Mal- 
stock for me, as she is to be the companion of my home- 
ward drive,” said Lady Egeria, “ and to tell one of the 
squire’s servants that I want my carriage and ponies, for 
it is time for me to go home ? ” 

“ Very well, Lady Egeria ; to order the carriage and to 
hunt up Miss Malstock shall be my first duties,” answered 
Sir Richard, and he turned in the direction of the house. 

There was no one, we may be sure, discernible among 
the rhododendron bushes as he passed them by, and, 
having executed that portion of Lady Egeria’s wishes which 
concerned the carriage, the baronet next went in quest of 
Miss Malstock, whom he found on the lawn, looking on at 
the performance of the tennis players. 

Lady Egeria, when alone, murmured to herself. u Yes, 
it was true. I refused to answer him ; but it was true ! 
O Lionel, my love, my love, on whom I had anchored my 
heart as woman seldom does, for whose sake I wear these 
emblems of mourning, whose memory is so dear to me — 
for your sake it is that I can never love your brother.” 

A few minutes later, Lady Egeria, having bidden adieu 
to her hostess and the kindly squire, stepped into her 
dainty little equipage, with Mavina at her side, and re- 
turned Sir Richard’s parting bow. The spirited little ponies 
shook their flowing manes and rattled their silver-mounted 
harness as the carriage rolled off, and was speedily lost to 
sight. 

It was growing late in the day, and by degrees the 
carriages of various sorts came round and the guests de- 
parted and presently the garden party at Old Court had 
come to an end, and was merely registered in the recollec- 
tions of those who had been there as a pleasant memory of 
the past. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


45f 


CHAPTER IX. 

“shall expect my reward.” 

A comfortable but ugly red-brick house, at the corner of 
Crown Street, which in Wortham is regarded as a most 
respectable locality, bore on its neatly-painted door a 
plate in burnished brass, indicating that it was the resi- 
dence of Mr. T. Malstock, surgeon. 

The doctor’s gig, with a steady brown horse in the 
shafts, was standing at the door, and in the surgery were 
the doctor’s two apprentices — or pupils if you will — one 
toiling at the pestle and mortar, while the other was label- 
ing and tying up sundry phials, for their employer made 
up his own medicines. He was universally respected, 
though, and was so constantly hailed as Dr. Malstock 
that we may as well concede him brevet rank at once, 
since he was dubbed M.D. by all except himself. 

Dr. Malstock, then, his wife, and his only daughter, 
Mavina, were together in the square, somewhat shabbily- 
furnished drawing-room on the left. The honest surgeon 
was drawing on his gloves before starting for a round of 
outlying visits. Mrs. Malstock, plump, round-faced, and 
lethargic, as great a contrast to her pretty daughter as 
need be, was busy with her needle. Mavina was still 
seated at the piano, with a piece of music before her. 
She had been singing. Her father liked to hear her fine 
voice render the plaintive, simple ballads, English and 
Scottish, that he prized above Italian bravura, and was 
often too tired in the evening to do anything but doze in 
his armchair; and the last notes of her song had but just 
died out in the sultry August air. 

“ Well done, my girl,” said the doctor, heartily. “ Real 
taste, and real feeling, there, to my fancy. I must be off 
now, though, for there’s a new patient waiting for me so 
far off as Glannersley Cross Roads, and I must push 
Brown Robin on at his best trot to make up for lost time. 
Good-bye, Kitty, dear. I shan’t be in much before 
seven, at the earliest.” 


THE LAD Y EGER LA ; 


40 


A minute later, and off clattered the doctor’s gig, while 
Mavina put away her music, closed her piano, and col- 
lected the three volumes of a novel that lay strewn in 
different parts of the room. 

“ I see you are going to the library,” said placid Mrs. 
Malstock ; “ and if so, I wish you would remember to 
bring me two skeins of that difficult blue worsted and four 
of the red. I can’t get on with my fire-screen till I have 
them.” 

Mavina promised to bring back with her the coveted 
skeins, left the room, put on her hat and gloves and 
jacket, and was soon round the corner of Crown Street. 
Her first call was the now daily one at the post office. 

As usual, there was no letter. At the library she ex- 
changed her novel for one unread, and selected the Berlin 
wool that her mother required, but it was not until she 
had left that emporium of literature and fancy work that it 
suddenly occurred to her to pay a visit to Jasper Holt’s 
office at the other end of Wortham, on the chance of his 
having news for her as to the lost Walter Travis 

She was like many country-bred girls, very independent 
as to her outgoing and incoming, and knew that her pro- 
longed absence would not cause anxiety at home. 

On reaching Mr. Holt’s office in Old Mill Lane, no 
attention was paid to the peal of the door bell. The maid 
of all work was probably out, and Mivers, the impish boy 
clerk, had been despatched on a genuine errand, while, as 
luck would have it, Jasper was himself absent. 

Without hesitation, Miss Malstock turned the handle of 
the door, and let herself into the narrow passage, and 
after rapping at the inner door and eliciting no reply 
admitted herself to the lawyer’s office, which she found 
empty, untidy, and strewn with dust and lumber, as she 
had anticipated. 

She took the chair nearest to her, and prepared to wait. 
Now Mavina was of an impatient character, and it 
chafed her to remain inactive. For some moments she 
occupied herself with tracing lines and letters, with the 
point of her parasol, in the dust that lay thickly in 
neglected corners, and in restlessly rising to peer over the 
wire blinds, but presently she espied, dangling from the 
keyhole of Mr. Holt’s official desk, a shining bunch of 
keys. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 4g 

She pounced at it as promptly, and with as scanty 
scruple, as a cat pounces on an unwary mouse, and in an 
instant had lifted the lid of the ink-stained desk, lying 
within which, on amass of bundles of papers tied with red 
tape, she beheld an open letter and an open telegram. 
She glanced first at the telegram. It ran thus : — 


“ Have made inquiries, per confidential agent, as requested by your- 
self. 

“ Have reason to fear foul play. 

“ Conjecture that the missing man has been made away with. 

(i Will, if desired, prosecute further inquiry. 

“James Scrogg, 

“ Bombay.” 


The letter which next claimed Mavina’s attention was 
couched in the following language : — 

“Dear Sir, — I agree to the terms proposed, although exorbitantly 
high. Of this I am well aware, but in such a case as this, money must 
be freely sacrificed. What was done in India was my misfortune, not 
my fault, as I explained to you ; but I do not wish it to be talked of, as it 
might be, even if unjustly, to my prejudice. 

“ I can only say, then, that I entrust the business to your hands, and 
hope soon to hear no more of it. I repeat that I am willing to pay 
the money demanded. 

a Believe me to remain, dear sir, 

“ Your much obliged, 
Richard Harrington, Bart. 

“ Greystone Abbey, August 5th.” 

With flashing eyes, with frowning brow, and with her 
small white teeth peeping from between her red lips, like 
those of a tiger-cat about to spring, Mavina committed to 
memory the exact words of both documents. Small diffi- 
culty was there in that. It needed not intelligence as 
subtle as hers to perceive the connection between the 
English letter and the Indian telegram. The sound of a 
distant footfall on the pavement without caused her to 
remember the necessity for caution. In an instant she 
had reclosed the desk, had readjusted the letters and 
papers that littered it, had seated herself, and had resumed 
her occupation of tracing lines with her parasol in the 
dust. 

Then she heard the street door opened, and a man 
came in with hurrying tread, and next the handle of the 

4 


5 ° 


TILE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


door near her was turned, and a loud, hard voice exclaimed, 

“ Hilloa, I beg pardon, Miss Malstock ; sorry, I’m sure, 
to have kept you waiting, out of all the world. But sit 
down, sit down, my dear young lady. I have news for you 
to-day — news from India — but not, I’m afraid, exactly 
what you wish.” 

Mavina’s powers of dissembling must have been con- 
siderable, so rapidly had she contrived to banish from her 
face and demeanor every trace of her recent excitement. 

“ News for me, Mr. Holt,” she said, half eagerly, but 
with a tremulous voice; “not — not bad news, though, I 
hope ? ” 

At this moment Jasper’s quick eye caught sight of the 
keys dangling from the keyhole of his unlocked desk, and 
he could not suppress the homely exclamation of “ Bless 
my soul 1 ” uttered with some annoyance at his own care- 
lessness. But he noted, too, that the objects covering the 
lid of the desk were precisely placed as he had left them, 
while the manner of his fair client was not such as to sug- 
gest the faintest suspicion of prying curiosity on her part. 

“ Don’t blame me if it is so,” replied the lawyer, as he 
opened his desk and took from it the telegram, which he 
proceeded to smooth out with his heavy hand. 

“ This message, Miss Malstock,” Jasper went on to say, 
“ is from a professional man, an English solicitor, estab- 
lished in Bombay, with whom I have had former inter- 
course. Mr. Scrogg has been in India twenty years, and 
knows the country and the native character as well as 
most men, so that I have little doubt but that the agents 
lie employs are as able to worm out the truth as can be 
expected. Here is the telegram itself for you to read. 
He sent it, I daresay, immediately on receiving the report 
of his subordinates.” 

And the solicitor put into Mavina’s hand the despatch 
from India, every word of which she knew by heart, 
though now it was incumbent on her to read it afresh, and 
to feign wonder, as well as horror, at the drift of it. 

“ Oh, Mr. Holt — how dreadful ! ” she said, sobbing 
and as she let the telegram drop from between her fingers 
she averted her face and put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

Jasper gave her some rough words of comfort. 

“ Bad,” he said, “ as the business looked, it was possible 
that the poor fellow might be still alive ; possible, too, 


• *\ 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


51 


that the foul play hinted at might not have amounted to 
the worst and most heinous crimes. He would/’ he said, 
“ telegraph back to India before he slept, and endeavor to 
elucidate the mystery.” 

He begged Miss Malstock to compose herself, and to 
hope for the best. 

“ You know the world so much better, Mr. Holt,” she 
said, meekly, “ than a poor weak girl like myself can do, 
that I feel I had better be guided by your advice, and 
permit myself to hope. Lady Egeria, too, I am sure, 
will attach weight to your opinion, for she has been kind 
enough to express much interest in the search for mv 
sake.” 

“ For your sake, there are others than Lady Egeria 
Fitzurse, dear Mavina,” began die lawyer, taking one of 
his pretty client’s hands between his own strong ones, 
but he had not time to complete the sentence, for Mavina, 
with quiet firmness, liberated her fingers from his grasp. 

“ Mr. Holt,” she said, with offended dignity, “ I have 
already, signified to you, I believe, that I dislike these 
familiarities, and that I do net wish you to address me by 
my Christian name.” 

There was a look of undisguised admiration in Jasper’s 
overbright eyes as he was thus admonished, for Mavina’s 
indignation had raised a tinge of color in her fair, pale 
face, that he deemed remarkably becoming, while her fine 
eyes had lost their usual dreamy languor. However, he 
was quite urbane, and almost humble, as he replied — 

“ I beg your pardon, for the freedom, I am sure. But, 
really, Miss Malstock, it can be no secret to you that the 
one chief object ofmy life now is to win your hand — your 
dear little hand — and to be the happy husband of one 
who would make the very prettiest little wife in all Wor- 
tham. Do not, I beg of you, give me an answer now,” 
he made haste to add, “ as I see by your attitude that it 
would not be favorable to me, but think it over again. 
Think it over, and rely on my devotion and my constancy. 

I admired you long, long before I had the privilege of 
knowing you. This is not the first time, as you may 
remember, that I have pleaded to you to care a little for 
me — for me, who think of you so much among the cares 
of my life. I can only say that since I am doing my best 
for you — call I can, in short — if the sad news in this tele- 


5 2 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


gram should prove to have a basis of truth, and your poor 
friend be lost to you for ever, you will then, I hope, allow 
me to come forward — you need not shake your pretty 
head, Mavina — well, Miss Mavina ; and remember that if 
I work for you as I am working now, it is to you that I 
shall look for my reward.” 

A half-whispered word in answer — “ I will think of it; 
let me go now ” — and she was gone. 


CHAPTER X. 

LADY SPARKLETON’s SONG REMAINS UNFINISHED. 

“ What are we to do now ? The dinner party for to-night 
complete — just fourteen of us — and now, at the last mo- 
ment, Janet, your aunt, sends word that we are not to count 
on her. It is most provoking ! ” 

And the Marquess of Cheviot, though as good humored 
a gentleman as ever lived, looked irritable as he tossed a 
crumpled, scented note upon the table hard by. 

“ Is Aunt Janet ill, or does she think so? ” asked Lady 
Egeria. 

“ Some rubbish she writes about neuraptics, the new 
nonsensical term for her old complaint of the nerves, which 
that prince of humbugs, old Sir Joseph Doublegee, taught 
her when she went up to London. Anyhow, she can’t 
come — or she won’t — and here we are, a party of thirteen, 
and the guests expected for half-past eight o’clock,” said 
the marquess. 

“ I think the only plan will be to ask Mavina — Miss 
Malstock,” suggested his daughter, after an instant for 
reflection. “ We shall have, as it is, more gentlemen than 
ladies at the table. And Mavina will come at short notice, 
I am sure.” 

The marquess made somewhat of a wry face at the men- 
tion of Miss Malstock. 

“ I am not so very pleased,” he said, “ at the notion of 
asking that young lady here to a dinner like this — and to 
meet the Sparkletons, too ; but never mind. Yes, Egeria, 
you had better get your protegee over, and send a carriage 
for her, I suppose. It’s one of the penalties one pays for 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


53 


living in the country, and a thinly inhabited part of the 
country to boot.” 

And so it was settled. Aunt Janet, by her default, had 
procured an invitation, in hot haste, for Mavina Malstock 
to assist at what had been intended to be a most select and 
carefully-chosen party. Lady Janet was an old maid cf 
quality, sister to the marquess, and to whom her brother 
had lent the Dower House, two miles off, and in which 
there was now no dowager to dwell. A flighty, fussy 
invalid, dividing her time between the grind of fashionable 
lite and the palliation of her own semi-imaginary ailments, 
was Lady Janet Fitzurse. Her cue, just then, was to be a 
martyr to some fine new variety of her old nervous disorder, 
and she had sent word on the very afternoon of the dinner 
party that it was impossible for her to do anything but sip 
chloral and inhale ether, and lie wrapped in shawls at 
home. Luckily, there was Mavina Malstock, too anxious 
to please her aristocratic friend to resent the poor compli- 
ment of being invited as a topgap. And by half-past eight 
o’clock the last of the expected guests had alighted at 
Hurst Royal. 

The gong sent its deep roar and clang through hall and 
corridor, awakening the echoes of the grand old house, and 
as it sounded, the double doors of the great drawing-room 
were thrown open, and the company, two and two, passed 
out, by a double file of richly-liveried servants, and into 
the large dining-room, blazing with lights and bright with 
flowers. 

Portraits of by-gone warriors, courtiers, and beauties of 
the house of Fitzurse looked down from the walls, while 
there was a gorgeous display of gold and silver plate, some 
of which at least must have escaped the melting pot when 
the reigning earl of the period sacrificed his goblets and 
tankards and massive drinking cups, to raise a regiment 
for King Charles. And the heaped up hot-house fruit, 
and rare flowers in colored masses, and golden epergnes 
and candelabra, on the table itself, were pleasant to look 
upon, and gave promise of a dinner as faultless as the 
appointments, for the marquess, though he lived so much 
in the country and so little in town, was known to have 
attached to his service a chef of no mean gastronomic 
renown. 

The marquess had led in Lady Sparkleton, not long 


54 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


returned from London, and soon to leave the country house, 
that she detested as a den of dullness, for Cowes or Caith- 
ness, then for Como, and anon for Nice. For Lady 
Sparkleton was not merely a peeress and beautiful woman, 
but a bright, particular star of fashion as well — a shooting 
star, as such restless meteors are apt to be, and Lord 
Sparkleton had enough to do to keep pace with her, pay 
her bills, and gratify her whims. 

There is very little to be said of his lordship, except that 
he was pink and florid and silent, and had, with his fair 
hair and arched eyebrows, an air of perpetual astonishment, 
perhaps at finding himself the husband of a fashionable 
beauty so constantly cited by the society papers as Lady 
Sparkleton. 

That lady had a superb voice, as well as a fine face and 
figure, and knew its value. Sometimes she could be per- 
suaded to exert her vocal powers for the delight of the 
company in which she found herself, especially, ill-natured 
people averred, if a Royal Highness or even a foreign am- 
bassador were present ; and at other times she was dis- 
tinctly the bird that could sing and would not be made to 
sing, whether by entreaty or remonstrance. 

On this occasion she was in high good humor, and there 
was every reason to suppose that she would not be cruel 
when asked to exhibit her accomplishments. The party 
from Old Court were there ; the squire, his kind wife, the 
two charming Redmayne girls, and the handsome guards- 
man, their brother. So was Sir Richard Harrington. So 
were three young cavalry officers, Paget, Vere, and Vane, 
from the cavalry barracks at Coalport, all of them belong- 
ing to families with whom the marquess counted some sort 
of kindred. So was Mavina, in a maize-colored silk dress 
that she wore on grand occasions, and wearing sundry 
old ornaments that her mother had worn on her wedding 
day. 

Lady Egeria, in the rich simplicity of her attire, white 
chambery gauze, almost concealing the shimmer of the 
cloth of silver transparent beneath, and with no ornaments 
but a spray and a necklace of large pearls, contrasted with 
Lady Sparkleton, whose elaborate toilet was a triumph of 
Worth’s art, combining, as it did, colored satin and cob- 
web lace, cloth of gold, embroidery of floss silk, and 
buttercup velvet. Her jewels, famous at London parties, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


55 


and appraised by the Diogenes and the Argus at ever so 
many thousands, flashed back the light in gleams of many- 
tinted radiance. 

The peeress was undeniably handsome, and had a showy 
complexion that scoffed at pearl powder and owed nothing 
to carmine ; but her features, like her figure, did not 
possess the delicate yet stately loveliness of Egeria Fitz- 
urse. In her heart of hearts, the professional beauty felt 
this herself. 

“ Lucky for some of us that her father chooses to bury 
her alive in the country, as he does ; ” thus ran Lady 
Sparkleton’s thoughts, as she glanced at the faultless face 
of her entertainer’s graceful daughter. 

The dinner was as good as dinner could well be ; the 
wines of choice vintages ; and the conversation, if not, for 
lack of topics, quite up to the London standard, at any 
rate tolerably brisk. Even Lord Sparkleton warmed up a 
little, and was able to find something to say when his host 
broached the subject of coals and coal mines. 

Lord Sparkleton, like other magnates of those parts, 
drew a great part of his very comfortable income from 
sources subterranean, and he was now a victim, like the 
marquess, to the machinations of a hostile league, that had 
been formed to harass the coal owners into submitting to 
terms dictated by the men. 

Silverseam, on the Cheviot property, was not the only 
pit that had been selected for an experimental strike. A 
mine of Lord Sparkleton’s, known by the euphonious name 
of “ Old Deepbiggin,” had been similarly put under the 
ban of the Consolidated Colliers’ Association, while sub- 
scriptions from the other miners in the district flowed 
merrily in to induce those on strike to regard their “play” 
as a genuine holiday. 

“ Trying, by Jove, to starve us all into surrender ! ” 
remarked Lord Sparkleton, growing perceptibly pinker. 

“ A shameful conspiracy, I call it ! ” said the marquess, 
in a raised voice, and there was a murmur of well-bred 
assent amongst the company. 

If dinners, nowadays, are unreasonably late, at least men 
do not linger around the mahogany as did our ancestors of 
the hard-drinking Georgian reigns. And presently the 
whole of the guests were congregated in the great drawing- 
room, where Lady Sparkleton, who never condescended 


5 6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


to sing anything in her native tongue, graciously warbled 
a little Neapolitan ditty — boat song, or love song — much 
as a thrush endowed with human vocalization might have 
done. It was half promised that she would charm her 
listeners, later, with one of her best operatic performances. 
Then Alice Redmayne, who was a skilled pianiste, played 
something j and next Mavina, being invited to sing, sang 
something, and was wrathful with herself that she felt too 
timid, in the presence of the titled London beauty, to do 
justice to her own powers. Often had she done far better 
with no audience but her parents, in the untidy drawing- 
room of her Crown Street home. The coffee trays and the 
ices were handed round, and there was a buzz of conversa- 
tion until, after awhile, it came to be time for Lady Sparkle- 
ton’s best song. 

Round the piano were clustered the young cavalry 
officers, the Redmayne girls, and their brother, the guards- 
man, the latter of whom was proud to be permitted to 
adjust Lady Sparkleton’s music for her as she took her 
seat. A little way off was Lady Egeria, to whom Lord 
Sparkleton was relating some episode of the season in 
town. The marquess and the squire were talking of mat- 
ters magisterial in the doorway. Mavina, who was not on 
very intimate terms with any one there, save her patroness, 
and who felt awkward in consequence, stood examining a 
collection of photographs that lay on the table at some 
distance. 

Some impulse of idle good nature or curiosity prompted 
Sir Richard Harrington to approach the girl, to whom he 
seldom had addressed a word, and to talk to her concern- 
ing the photographs — an easy subject. 

“ I have seen most of these places, Miss Malstock,” he 
said, smiling. “Yes, there are the old Pyramids, the 

Caves of Elephanta, the Taj Mahul ; and here, I think ” 

By this time Lady Sparkleton had begun to sing, and 
her rich voice rang out with theatrical force and fulness, 
so that Sir Richard lowered his to a whisper — “ is the 
Roshunee Mosque at Lahore, which ” 

As he spoke he pointed to one of the photographs, in 
Which a renowned Moslem shrine was depicted by no less 
an artist than Sol himself. But Mavina started as if a 
snake had bitten her. It was not the photograph on which 
her eyes were fixed. It was a ring on Sir Richard’s finger 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


57 


— a large ring, adorned by three fine rubies, on which her 
eyes had fastened. She pointed to it abruptly, and in a 
hoarse tone inquired — 

# “ Where— where, Sir Richard, did you get that — that 
ring ? ” 

The baronet’s fair face blushed to a deathlike whiteness. 
His very lips paled, and his eyes grew dim, while he caught 
at the table as for support ; but he rallied his faculties, and 
with a low, uneasy laugh, replied — 

“Yes, there are painful memories connected with this 
ring, Miss Malstock. It belonged to a friend — a chum I 
had in India — he died ” 

“ I knew it — I knew it ! ” hissed out Mavina, with 
ghastly face and eyes dilated in horror, as she shrank back 
from him. 

Nothing of this had been noticed by the other occupants 
of the drawing-room, intent on listening to Lady Sparkle- 
ton’s sonata. The song itself had arrived at one of its 
most thrilling passages, when a shrill shriek made every 
one start and turn simultaneously. What was seen was 
Mavina dropping down in a swoon, and Sir Richard 
Harrington, who had caught her in his strong arms, just in 
time to prevent her from actually falling, supporting her 
drooping head and helpless form, while he himself looked 
strangely ill and agitated. The singer’s voice died away 
in a quaver. The song was forgotten. All was confusion. 
The guests clustered hastily round, with proffers of help, 
and exclamations of wonder or of sympathy. 

“ Poor thing, we had better take her upstairs to my 
room — the blue morning room — she will recover more 
quickly there,” said Lady Egeria, and then led the way, 
while Harry Redmayne and one of the young cavalry 
officers aided Mavina, still half insensible, and with closed 
eyes and haggard mien, to ascend, slowly, the grand stair- 
case. 

The blue boudoir once reached, Louise, like a minister- 
ing sprite, appeared instantly in response to Lady Egeria’s 
bell. 

“ Ah ! ” said the French maid. “ I see what do — the 
young lady soon get well under my care. I have seen 
good many cases like hers, miladi, when I was in Paris.” 

And she took immediate possession of the patient, laid 
her on a couch, opened the nearest window, and bustled 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


5S 


off in search of the regular remedies for syncope, and was 
soon back again. 

“ We had better go, I think,” said Harry Redmayne, as 
Lady Egeria thanked the two gentlemen for their assistance, 
and he and the young hussar went back to report that the 
invalid was in experienced hands, and pronounced con 
valescent. 

The marquess’ brougham was ordered round to Mavina’s 
home, since, as soon as she was able to speak, she declined 
to appear again in public that evening, and her patroness 
left her under the care of Louise. But before Lady Egeria 
gained the drawing-room, another of the guests had disap- 
peared. 

It was remembered afterwards that the groom of the 
chamber had brought in a letter and tendered it to Sir 
Richard, that the baronet had turned even whiter than 
before, if possible, as he took the letter from the salver on 
which it lay and noted its postmark and the handwriting, 
and that, with a wild glance around him, he had slipped 
out of the room, ordered his carriage, and departed, with- 
out a word to any one. So soon as the hostess returned 
there was a general dispersal. A gloom had fallen over 
the pleasant party. It was as though the shadow of mis- 
fortunes to come had darkened the festive scene. Of 
course, conventional words were uttered. 

“So sad. for you, Lady Egeria.” “Heat of the wea- 
ther.” “ Thunder in the air.” “ So charming an evening.” 

But the party broke up earlier than had been expected, 
and Lady Sparkleton’s best song remained unfinished. 


CHAPTER XI. 

BLACK WATER TARN. 

The Right Hon. Stephen Babbington, M.P., as hard- 
headed and sound a politician as any Parliamentary cham- 
pion of the party to which the marquess belonged, had, 
with his wife and daughter, arrived at Hurst Royal. Theirs 
was to be a hurried visit. Two days or three were all that 
they could spare, on their way to Scotland ; but for one of 
these an excursion had been planned, that should include 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


59 


Black Water Tarn, deservedly deemed the lion of the 
district. The weather, serene and warm, lent itself to such 
an expedition, and even Lady Janet, who was proud of her 
intimacy with a great man constantly mentioned in the 
most serious of leading articles, got well enough to join the 
party. The other seats in the yellow barouche were occu- 
pied by the M.P. and his anxious-eyed wife, and by the 
marquess himself. Lady Egeria went, as usual, in her 
basket carriage, escorted by the three liveried infants, and 
accompanied by Flora Babbington, a fine specimen of a 
particular style of the fashionable London young lady. 
The marquess had invited Harry Redmayne and Sir 
Richard to join his party at the Tarn. 

“ We’ll vote it a picnic on a small scale,” had been Lord 
Cheviot’s written words, in accordance with which a light 
cart, with luncheon and champagne and fruit, and a couple 
of servants, had been sent up in advance to the foot of the 
mountain. There was not a very sustained conversation 
kept up either in the barouche or the pony carriage. Lady 
Janet, whose beady, restless eyes, carefully-blackened eye- 
brows, and quaint little wrinkled face, gave her an odd 
resemblance to an elderly monkey in costly array, did 
indeed babble incessantly, not of green fields, but of Lon- 
don parties, rumors and scandals, social and political, but 
the marquess and the Right Hon. Stephen were not 
loquacious, while Mrs. Babbington, as usual, seemed weary 
and preoccupied. Lady Egeria and her fair guest were 
not exactly kindred spirits. Some remark on the part of 
the former, as to the wild beauty of the landscape, as the 
cream-colored ponies pressed on up the hilly road, elicited 
from Miss Babbington the following rejoinder — 

“Yes, awfully pretty, and all that kind of thing, I’m 
sure ; but so lonely. The only thing I care for, out of 
town, is a good grass country, like Leicestershire ; that is 
fine ; but I forgot, Lady Egeria, you don’t hunt, I be- 
lieve ? ” 

Lady Egeria did not hunt, whereas Flora Babbington, a 
feminine Nimrod of the first water, was famous for her 
cross-country feats, and quite a celebrity in the metropo- 
litan shire of fox hunting. 

The trysting place at the foot of the hill once reached, 
the carriages could go no further. The young baronet and 
the guardsman, it was agreed, should escort Lady Egeria 


6o 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


and Miss Babbington up the steep path leading to the 
Tarn itself, while the four elders of the party, with the 
luncheon and servants, the grooms and saddle horses, 
awaited them below. Flora Babbington eagerly accepted 
Harry Redmayne’s arm for the ascent, thankful, as she 
afterwards said, to have found one who belonged to her 
own Belgravian world among the savage surroundings of 
this northern loch. Even her prattle was hushed, how- 
ever, when first the magnificent view of the lakelet, over- 
shadowed by grim craft, and lying among rocks and 
feathery willows, like a clear green gem in a rough setting, 
became visible. Black Water Tarn, small as it was, never- 
theless looked strangely pretty and solitary amidst the bold 
limestone precipices that hemmed it in on three sides. 
Neither Sir Richard nor Lady Egeria had ever visited the 
spot, and they both gazed at the prospect silently for 
awhile, after Miss Babbington and her cavalier had rambled 
off among the rocks. 

“ I think,” said the baronet, after a pause, “ that I see 
an island in the Tarn, though how approachable, since 
there seems neither boat nor causeway, I cannot guess.” 

Lady Egeria was better informed. She had heard, she 
said, of a line of stepping stones on the north side of the 
Tarn, by which easy access to the islet might be attained. 
And she readily allowed herself to be persuaded, under Sir 
Richard’s guidance, to walk round to where the stones 
were to be seen, showing their mossy surfaces above the 
shallow water, and to traverse the slippery path which they 
afforded, and gain the islet, which was overgrown with alder 
bushes and dwarf willows, and full of rocks. There were 
clouds already gathering, and a copper-colored haze dimmed 
the serene blue of the sky; but the pilgrims were slow to 
note these signs of a coming storm, so much were they 
taken up in gazing at the rugged beauty of the scenery. 

“ There is a legend concerning this place,” said Lady 
Egeria, consulting her memory, “ that every century — or 
fifty years, perhaps — a black torrent pours down from the 
heights into the Tarn here, the water of which, as you see, 
is quite clear and pure, and rushes, doing mischief as it 
goes, down into the lower valleys — a torrent as black as 
ink, perhaps stained by the peat that is so plentiful on the 
high moors.” 

Sir Richard smiled as he looked into the Tarn below, 


OR, BRO UGH T TO L IGHT. 6 1 

crystal clear and smooth as a mirror, when suddenly Lady 
Egeria started, and pointed upwards, exclaiming, in half- 
frightened accents — 

“ Look — Sir Richard — look, by the cliff-top yonder ! ” 
The baronet glanced upwards. Down the white lime- 
stone something black as ink was slowly trickling. But 
before he had time to comment on the singularity of the 
coincidence, there was a blinding Hash of lightning, and 
then a startling crash of thunder that awoke the sullen 
echoes of the hills, and down came the rain with almost 
tropical violence. “ There is no time to be lost,” began 
Sir Richard, when with a shudder Lady Egeria, who had 
never turned her face from the cliff wall, interrupted his 
speech. 

‘‘Indeed not!” she exclaimed; “this is no common 
storm. See — see where it comes ! ” 

For already the trickling thread of sable fluid had 
changed into a roaring cascade of turbid water, bursting 
over the edge of the precipice, and flinging itself into the 
Tarn below. The sky was veiled now ; it was almost dark ; 
and the lurid gleams of the lightning were near and fre- 
quent, while crash after crash, peal after peal, rang with 
thunderous noise from crag to cave, and as deafening grew 
the hoarse roar of the angry black torrent rushing from 
above. To traverse the stepping stones, now deeply sub- 
merged, would have been hopeless, while already the low- 
lying banks of the islet were inundated, and it was difficult 
for Sir Richard to find a partial shelter for Lady Egeria, 
amidst the heavy rain and the rising water, amidst the 
trees and rocks of the higher ground. 

“What is to be done ?” said the young man, almost 
with a groan of despair ; “ how can I save you — at any 

cost? I am a strong swimmer, and perhaps ” 

“ It would be impossible,” gently answered Lady 
Egeria ; “ nor can we remain here much longer unharmed. 
But I think I saw an old boat chained to a post as we came 
round towards the stones, and if you could unfasten it, Sir 
Richard, there might yet be a chance of safety.” 

“ A boat ! Stay where you are, then, Lady Egeria, for 
a moment, and hold on by the bough of this tough alder 
tree if the flood rises,” answered the baronet, excitedly ; 
“ I will not be long away, at any hazard to myself.” 

But it w r as not until several anxious moments had gone 


62 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


by that Sir Richard came hurrying back through the inun- 
dation, already knee deep. 

“ This way — this way, Lady Egeria — ” he gasped out, as 
he seized her wrist. “ I have left the boat fast to a willow, 
but we must hasten, or the very tree will be torn from its 
roots. Let me help you — thus.” 

Through the driving rain, through the blinding glare of 
the lightning, they pressed on. Lady Egeria could scarcely 
keep her feet, so strong was the rush of the foaming water 
that surged and heaved, a sable sea, all around them. Sir 
Richard’s powerful arm sustained her as she crossed the 
lower part of the islet, and once, as they approached the 
almost sunken willow to which the boat was tied, he had to 
lift her shrinking form to effect a passage across the 
swampy earth. 

The boat at last ! a fisher’s boat, old and rickety, but 
with oars and a boathook lying by the thwarts. In a mo- 
ment Lady Egeria was lifted in, and in the next Sir Richard 
had cast off the moorings, had sprung in , and, grasping the 
oars, set forth on his perilous voyage. Three times, 
dashed against rocks or trees, it seemed as if the reeling 
skiff must be upset or stove in, and as it was, the water 
burst over the gunwale and trickled in through more than 
one seam or crevice. 

The storm raged on. The boat was old and frail. Had 
not the young master of Greystone been a skilled oarsman, 
as well as a strong man, nerved to do his best in that hour 
of danger, there would have been small hope of safety. 
Once, twice, as the clumsy craft heeled over under the vio- 
lence of the black waves, Lady Egeria’s marble-white face 
and clasped hands were more eloquent than words, and 
death seemed certain. But with rare courage and dexter- 
ity Sir Richard fought his way through the surging waste 
of waters, and at last the shore was gained, and he was 
able to force the boat into a natural creek, and to help 
Lady Egeria, wet, chilled, and weary, to gain the stony 
bank, and scramble beyond the reach of the sullen waves 
that broke hoarsely among the rugged boulders. 

The short-lived mountain storm was dying out in dis- 
tance, and already the heavy rain had diminished, and the 
thunder rolls were less frequent, but no path or track was 
visible, and the two had to make their way as best they 
might, amidst rocks and bushes and loose pebbles, down 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


6 3 


the steep slope that led from the elevated plateau to the 
lower level beneath. To the right, a deep low roar told 
where the sable torrent, overflowing from the Tarn, was 
forcing its way towards the lowlands. There was no im- 
mediate peril, but Lady Egeria, clinging to the arm of her 
rescuer, could scarcely keep her feet on the wet and 
broken ground which had to be traversed. Thoroughly 
exhausted, drenched with wet, and bewildered by the glare 
of the lightning, they struggled on, and at last emerged 
from amidst the white rocks into a more open space. 

“ That must be the road,” exclaimed the baronet, in a 
tone of relief ; “ and there, Lady Egeria, are the carriages, 
or I am much mistaken. Courage, then, for a minute 
more.” 

The lost ones were welcomed, almost as if risen from the 
dead, when, a minute later, they found themselves among 
their friends. The marquess, in especial, who had been half 
distracted at the idea of his daughter’s danger, was over- 
joyed now to welcome her back, and wrung Sir Richard’s 
hand with a heartiness which showed that his gratitude 
was genuine. Harry Redmayne and Miss Babbington had 
regained the high road and the party long ago, but they 
had brought no news with them except a doleful report of 
the inundation, and since then two of the servants had 
been despatched to the nearest farms to summon aid. 
This soon arrived, in the shape of men and ropes, but, for- 
tunately, those who had been mourned as lost were already 
in security. 

There was no question, then, of luncheon, as may well 
be guessed. To hurry home was all that could be thought 
of. Lady Egeria, cold and wet as she was, declined to 
take a seat in the barouche. With Miss Babbington beside 
her, she took her usual place in the low pony carriage, 
and as Sir Richard took her hand to say “adieu” she 
looked at him more kindly than ever before as she whis- 
pered — 

“ I owe you my life. You saved me, bravely, nobly, at 
cruel peril to yourself, and I shall never forget it — to my 
dying day.” 

One lingering pressure of her hand, and then the four 
mettled ponies sprang forward on their homeward route to 
Hurst Royal, the other carriage following promptly, while 
Sir Richard and young Redmayne remounted their horses, 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


6 ;. 

and set off towards their respective homes. None of those 
who composed the party would be likely to forget that 
eventful visit to Black Water Tarn. 


CHAPTER XII. 

“ LET US BE FRIENDS.” 

It was the morning of the day succeeding to that which 
had witnessed the eventful excursion to Black Water Tarn. 
As usual in our climate, the thunderstorm had proved the 
herald of a change in the weather, lately so fine. Much 
rain had fallen, and the lowering look of the leaden-tinted 
clouds threatened a fresh deluge, but now there were fitful 
gleams of sunshine, profiting by which Sir Richard Har- 
rington ordered his horse to be saddled, and rode over to 
Hurst Royal. The baronet, as the groom who followed 
him had reason to know, was a fast rider, and habitually 
dashed along over hill and dale, “ like Dick Turpin, or 
some one of that sort,” according to the verdict of the 
stable yard at Greystone Abbey. 

On this occasion, however, his pace was demure enough 
to satisfy the most censorious of servile critics, and he let 
the reins hang loose on Wildfire’s neck, and rode thought- 
fully and slowly along. As he expected, on reaching 
Hurst Royal, he was informed that the marquess was from 
home. There was, indeed, a magistrates’ meeting on that 
day at which Sir Richard, newly-appointed a Justice of the 
Peace, might, had he chosen, been present, and over which 
Lord Cheviot had to preside. The Right Hon. Stephen 
Babbington and his family had, soon after breakfast, 
resumed their journey towards the Scottish Highlands, and 
Lady Egeria was alone. 

Sir Richard Harrington had so timed his visit as to find 
Lady Egeria alone, if possible. It was early in the day ; 
too early, according to social etiquette, for ceremonious 
calls : but the young Lord of Greystone was already inti- 
mate at Hurst Royal ; and, besides, nothing was more 
natural than that he should inquire concerning Lady 
Egeria’s health after the awkward adventure of yesterday. 

He was ushered into the little green drawing-room, open- 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


65 

ing into the spacious conservatory, the room in which Ma- 
vina habitually waited until her noble friend was at leisure 
to see her. 

^ And presently, looking more beautiful than ever, Lady 
Kgeria appeared, and came forward, with both her hands 
held out to him in greeting. 

“ I am so glad to thank you ! ” she said, eagerly ; “ to 
thank you, Sir Richard, better than I could do before, for 
what I owe you — my poor life. But for your courage and 
your kindness I should not be here to-day.” 

“ It was nothing — nothing to mention,” replied the baro- 
net, reddening, for he winced tinder praise, even from lips 
so lovely. “ Any one, in my place, Lady Egeria, would 
have done as much ; or tried to do it.” 

“ You are a true knight ! ” answered Lady Egeria, smil- 
ing, “ and make little of dragon and paynim after you have 
conquered them. I shall not readily forget the flood of 
yesterday, nor our voyage, nor my debt of gratitude. 
Papa, too, with whom you have been a favorite from the 
first, could scarcely find words to express what he felt, 
now that you have proved yourself so true and brave a 
friend.” 

11 Ah ! that I might claim a dearer title,” passionately 
responded the young man, fixing his eyes imploringly on 
the beautiful face of her whose life he had saved. “ My 
wish, my longing, is to be regarded as something else than 
a friend : as your true lover, your devoted slave : one day, 
I trust, your proud and happy husband. Dear, dearest 
Egeria, hear me out. Do not turn your head away. 
Listen, while I plead for what I most value here on earth, 
for the one bright hope that gilds my solitary pathway in 
life — the hope of your love, your regard — that I may 
one day bring to Greystone the loveliest bride that ever 
crossed the threshold of the house of my father.” 

Lady Egeria’s smile had died away, and with it the color 
had forsaken her cheek, and her beautiful face looked 
marble white as she slowly made answer — 

“ Sir Richard, I am sorry — sorry for this, which I did 
not foresee, or dream of. Yes, I am sorry, for both our 
sakes. For yours, because it cannot be as you desire. 
For mine, because I am grateful to you, and like you, and 
think highly of you, and so it hurts me to give you pain by 
a refusal. And yet I must refuse.” 


66 


THE LADY EGERLA ; 


“ Are you so cold, then — a very icicle — that no love, no 
constancy, can warm or win ? ” burst out the master of 
Greystone, reproachfully ; “ or can it be that T speak too 
late, and that your heart is given already to another? ” 

“ You have no right, Sir Richard, to ask me such a ques- 
tion,” replied the beautiful girl, turning towards him with 
a queenly dignity and grace that enhanced her charms, 
“ but I will answer it, notwithstanding. You have guessed 
wrongly. I am plighted to no one, love no one, amongst 
the living. But do not,” she made haste to add, as she 
saw a sudden brightness, as of hope, in his eyes, now 
riveted on hers, “ do not be misled by my words. I must 
decline your proposal, sincere as I know it to be, and 
grieved as I am to seem cruel in what I say. I have no 
wish, no thought of marrying. What I reply to you would 
be my answer to any one who might pay me the compli- 
ment which you have just done.” 

“ Perhaps when you have known me better and longer,” 
persisted the suitor, clasping his hands together, and draw- 
ing a little nearer as he spoke ; but Lady Egeria quietly 
but firmly interrupted him — 

“ No, no, Sir Richard Harrington,” she said ; “ you 
must cherish no such fancy. That you may be happy, I 
hope, and that you may one day bring home to Greystone 
Abbey a wife worthy of you. But her name will not be 
Egeria Fitzurse. My answer, I must beg you to believe, 
is a final and fixed one.” 

The baronet could hardly repress a sob as he pressed 
his hands upon his throbbing temples. 

“You little know,” he said, bitterly, “how like a death 
knell to my dreams of earthly happiness are your cold 
words. I came here — fool that I was — with hope in my 
heart. All things seem very dreary, barren and forsaken, 
now that I have spoken and got my answer. My lonely 
home, the solitude of which falls on me from day to day, 
will seem lonelier than ever now. I feel myself a broken 
man, with no care for the position I have inherited, or the 
career that seemed to lie before me. I wish, now, that I 
had not sent in my papers, and left the army. But, to be 
sure, I can leave England. To live on here, and be denied 
your affection, and banished from your presence, would be 
insupportable to me.” 

“ But why should you be so banished ? ” responded 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


67 

Lady Egeria, pityingly, almost tenderly. “ Why should 

we not be friends, fast friends — you and I because we 

cannot be to each other more than that ? Stay here in 
your own home, Sir Richard, among those who esteem and 
value you, among whom my father and myself may, I trust, 

be always reckoned, and with time you will get over this 

fancy.” 

“ L is a fancy that will last a lifetime,” answered the 
young man, and looking very handsome and proud and 
sad as he said it. “ But I will take your advice, Lady 
Egeria, and will form no immediate resolution as to my 
future plans. I felt, at the first, as if I could know no rest 
until the sea rolled between us two. But if I may still be 
admitted at Hurst Royal ” 

“ Not merely admitted, but welcomed here, as a dear 
and tried friend and neighbor,” said Lady Egeria, smiling 
again. “ We shall see you very often, I hope, and gradually 
you will come to look on me with other eyes, and we shall 
forget this.” 

“ I shall never forget,” answered Sir Richard, as he rose 
from his seat; “ but I will do your bidding, cruel beauty. 
Yes, I will stay in England for the present, and at Grey- 
stone if I can. I shall not offend again, if my presumption 
is to be pardoned, and I am not to be shut out from the 
house that contains all I prize and value in this world. I 
shall not plead my cause again, nor even dare to hope that 
time may soften you towards me, but I shall remain in the 
neighborhood, and shall have the happiness of seeing you 
from time to time, Lady Egeria, as you say.” 

“ Yes, and we shall be friends, ever and always,” said 
Lady Egeria, tears glistening in her eyes as she took his 
offered hand at parting. 

“ Yes, let us be friends,” he said, mournfully, as he 
grasped her hand and raised it hurriedly to his lips. Then 
he rushed from the room, and very soon the quick beat of 
his horse’s hoofs was heard on the crisp gravel without, as 
he struck his spurs into Wildfire’s flanks, and rode at 
furious speed down the grand avenue of the park, until at 
last the sounds were lost in distance. 


68 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SIR RICHARD DROPS HIS MASK. 

It was still summer, but a mellow haze had tempered the 
dazzling blue of the sky ; the flowers had lost the early 
freshness of their gloom ; the ripening fruit on orchard 
bough and sunny peach wall gave silent warning that 
autumn was at hand. Indifferent, however, to the slow 
but certain progress of the seasons was the young master 
of Greystone. He was in his library, the room in which, 
though far from being of studious habits, he spent, when 
within doors, most of his time. A fine room, that library. 
It had been the abbot’s parlor before Greystone and its 
lands had passed into the possession of a lay owner; and 
its tapestried walls, and faded gilding, and carved beams 
and cornices of oak, as smooth and black as polished 
ebony, remained as mementoes of the past. The furniture, 
of course, was of a different date, and so were the books. 
There were windows of stained glass, glorious with those 
inimitable hues of blue and crimson that modern skill 
strives so hard to reproduce, and through which the day- 
light fell in many-colored patches on the Turkey carpet. 
Sir Richard Harrington could well remember, of course, 
that this had been his father’s favorite room, in which he 
received steward and tenants, wrote letters, and transacted 
such magisterial business as can be discharged single- 
handed by a Justice of the Peace. 

The present owner of the abbey was pacing to and fro 
with hurried strides, and a cloud upon his brow, deep in 
thought. 

“ I’ll not give in !” he muttered, with a dogged resolve 
that lent an expression almost of grimness to his fair face. 
“ Never think it, my Lady Egeria, were you twice as 
haughty, twice as cold, twice the beautiful iceberg that you 
seem to be. I was never really baffled yet when I had set 
my heart upon a thing. Yes, you refused me yesterday, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


6 9 


and prudence counseled that after my rejection as a suitor 
I should assume the humbler position of a friend. But the 
day may come — yes, the day may come — when some in- 
stinct of feminine weakness, a feminine caprice, may make 
you lend a willing ear to vows that — Aha ! I forgot ! ” he 
abruptly exclaimed, pausing in his walk, and actually in 
his vexation striking his forehead with his clenched hand. 
“ Fool that I was ! I have never given a thought to 
yonder accursed letter, or the writer of it, since it was 
thrust into my hand the other night. So much since then 
has happened to distract my mind from the wretched 
scrawl that seemed as ominous when I espied it as the 
hand-writing on the wall of Belshazzar’s banquet room.” 
He then took from his pocket a key, of peculiar shape 
and elaborate construction, and with it unlocked one of the 
drawers of an antique cabinet, inlaid with ivory and or- 
molu, which stood in a corner of the room. It was a deep 
drawer, and when opened proved to contain miscellaneous 
objects : a few trinkets, for instance, a clasped pocket 
book, a revolver, a good deal of loose money, in gold, 
silver, and crumpled bank notes, a bunch of faded flowers, 
and two or three letters. One of these, the seal of which 
was yet unbroken, was the missive which, marked “ urgent 
and immediate,” had been sent over from Greystone to 
Hurst Royal and proffered to Sir Richard during Mavina 
Malstock’s fainting fit and the confusion which it created 
after the dinner party at which Lady Sparklcton had been 
present. The baronet vaguely remembered, now, that he 
had thrust the unopened letter, on his return home, into 
its present receptacle. Some time had elapsed since then, 
and still the document had remained in its hiding place, 
like a sleeping snake, unread and unanswered. 

Sir Richard scowled at it as he turned it over again and 
again, hesitating, as it seemed, to peruse it. The paper 
was smooth and of fine quality ; the seal a quaint mono- 
gram ; the handwriting decidedly feminine, and the ink 
violet. A strong odor of some perfume, only too well 
remembered, clung to this letter like an atmosphere, and 
lent to it a sort of individuality that marked it off from or- 
dinary correspondence. Setting his teeth firm, and with a 
visible repugnance, Sir Richard tore open the envelope, 
took forth the letter, unfolded it, and flinging himself into 


70 


THE LADY EG EE LA ; 


the arm chair that stood nearest, began to read. What he 
read ran thus : — 

“On my return from the hills to Futtehpore, I heard what had oc- 
curred. You were gone — gone. You had left India — left me — without 
a word of farewell. But you are very much mistaken if you think I am 
so easily to be deserted. When you were poor, the mere cadet of a 
grand family, without a chance of the title and estates, were you not 
then my ardent lover, ready to pour out vows of devotion at my feet, 
pledged to be mine, and to share the wealth that was freely offered 
you ? 

“ And now how is it now ? I counsel you, in your new prosperity, to 
remember Zenobia, and to recollect that the blood in my veins is, in 
part at least, the warm blood of an Oriental, passionate alike for good 
or ill. Think of me — call up my image in the mirror of your memory. 
Can you not believe that my vengeance, once aroused, could be as piti- 
less as my fondness was tender ? 

“ Beware, Sir Richard Harrington ! I am not to be slighted, or 
neglected, with safety to him who dares to trifle with a heart like mine. 
I know your secret. I know the search that has been made for the 
body of the missing man. I know that — and more. Gold has placed 
at my command eyes and ears that serve me faithfully and well, and 
what is hidden can be revealed, if I am driven to use my power to the 
uttermost. I repeat that, in India even more than elsewhere, gold is a 
talisman that can unlock all tongues, unravel all mysteries, and that he 
alone who has no blame on his conscience is proof against what it can 
effect. 

“ You are in my power, Sir Richard. By a word I could bring you 
down from your place of worldly honor ; by a word I could bring you 
to disgrace and ruin and punishment. But will you have it so — will 
you forget your promises and your plight, and force me to be a foe 
indeed ? I hope not. But you must make up your mind soon — very 
soon. The mail steamer which conveys this letter also brings me to 
England. I shall be in London when you receive it. Write to me 
there, under cover, to my bankers, Messrs. Grindley and Cross, of 
Lombard Street, and let me know whether you choose to be friend or 
enemy to “ Zenobia Stone.” 

Twice, thrice, and yet for a fourth time did the baronet 
peruse this letter, as if to extract some crumb of comfort 
from amidst its veiled menaces and imperious demands ; 
and then, with a groan, he let it drop from his fingers, 
while his face grew haggard and worn. It was as if twen- 
ty years had suddenly been added to his age, so great was 
the change that agitation had worked. 

“ I am lost,” he muttered, hoarsely ; “ yes, lost. I would 
sooner have had a score of men for my enemies than hear 
that yonder she-fiend, subtle, daring and unscrupulous, is 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


7 * 


on my track. On my track, indeed, as a oloodhound 
might be, ruthless and keen of scent, never to rest till the 
prey be hunted down. Yes, it must be so, I suppose. 
Would that I had never seen that dark face of hers ! All 
will be dragged into the light of day, and I, young as lam, 
I, Richard Harrington, become a doomed and disgraced 
man. One hope, and one alone, remains. ” 

He rose from his chair, seated himself at the writing 
table, and with trembling fingers seized a pen. The 
letter which he wrote was short and hurried, and the 
writer’s hand shook so much that the lines were crooked 
and the characters barely legible. That hand had been 
steady enough when grasping a rifle in the dangerous pur- 
suit of large game among the hills and forests of India, and 
had very recently given rare proof of its owner’s coolness 
and courage when rescuing Lady Egeria from imminent 
risk on Black Water Tarn. It shook, now, like an aspen 
leaf ; but, somehow, the letter was dashed off, signed, 
sealed, and directed. 

“It was my only chance ! ” muttered Sir Richard, with 
a sigh of regret, as he satisfied himself that the address was 
full and accurate. “To have defied her, would have been 
madness. It is better thus.” 

He glanced at the ornamental clock upon the massive 
chimney-piece of black marble. In half an hour it would 
be time for the regular despatch of the post bag. The 
letter, however, which the master of Greystone had just 
penned seemed to him too important by far to be entrusted 
to any hands but his own. This time the baronet ordered 
no horse to be saddled. Leaving the house on foot, he 
traversed the long avenue, under the shadow of the great 
elms, his hat pulled down over his brows, his eyes down- 
cast, and scarcely noted the respectful salutation of his own 
lodgekeeper, or the hat touchings and deferential ducks of 
the head of such underlings, woodmen, or laborers from 
the home farm as he encountered beyond the precincts of 
the park. 

“Summat wrong wi’ the young master ! ” was the com- 
ment most frequent that evening on the benches of the vil- 
lage ale house, and to this was frequently added the saving 
clause : “ Yet it be a main pity, too ! ” 

Sir Richard was personally popular with the few humble 
neighbors or hangers on of the estate with whom during 


7 2 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


his short tenure he had had any direct intercourse ; and 
then is it not in human nature to be hopeful and indulgent 
at the beginning of a new reign ? That pecuniary embar- 
rassment should annoy him seemed impossible. 

The Harrington estates, it was well known, were as 
unencumbered as the lands of the Marquess of Cheviot 
himself, whereas Lord Sparkleton, and Squire Redmaync, 
of Old Court, and most of the county magnates adjacent, 
were equally well known to suffer more or less for the 
extravagance of their progenitors. And that so handsome 
a young fellow should be crossed in love appeared to the 
rustic judgment almost unnatural. 

Yet a screw loose of some sort there evidently was. 
Meanwhile Sir Richard himself recked little of the 
opinions which his moody looks and dejected demeanor 
might elicit. He reached Wortham, sought out the post- 
office, slipped into the box the letter which he had written, 
and returned without having exchanged a word with any 
one. 

A few weeks after these events, Mrs. Redmayne and her 
two daughters were together in the drawing room at Old 
Court, waiting, so it seemed, for six o’clock and the arri- 
val of the tea equipage. 

The squire was far afield, amidst crofts and copses, 
with his dogs and his gun. Lie was an old-fashioned man, 
who cared not for the modern luxury of afternoon tea, and 
who did care a good deal for the somewhat obsolete diver- 
sion of partridge shooting, in which he could not induce 
his son Harry to take an interest. 

The guardsman was away, too, at the house of some 
friend, whose notions of sport coincided with his own, 
and where battues and driver, beginning with the grouse 
and ending with the pheasants, superseded that homely 
“ all-round ” warfare against fur and feathers with which 
the present proprietor of Old Court was content. 

Mrs. Redmayne had spent the uneventful day within 
doors. But the girls, who had been out in their pony car- 
riage, had been over to Wortham, and were now eager and 
talkative over the local gossip they had picked up. 

Did mamma know that the Towers at Saxham had been 
let ? Could mamma guess who or what was the new tenant ? 
Such first-rate fun ! Such a chance for the county ! 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


73 


“ 1 think, girls,” said placid Mrs. Rcdmayne, with her 
good-natured smile, “ that if you took it by turns to speak, 
I should have a better chance of learning the news of 
which you are evidently both so full.” 

The young ladies laughed, and Clara it was who took 
the lead. 

“ Iii the first place, mamma, it is quite certain that the 
Towers is taken. Horses, carriages, servants, all arrived. 
And now our new neighbor is there herself/’ 

Mrs. Rcdmayne pricked up her ears, forSaxham Towers 
was a grand old house, the absentee owner of which had 
never yet succeeded in finding a tenant to pay him rent for 
the mansion that he could not afford to inhabit. 

“ Our new neighbor, as you call her, is tolerably rich, I 
should presume,” said the mistress of Old Court. 

“ Enormously rich, and a princess ! ” excitedly returned 
Maud. Visions of a German Serene Highness floated 
before Mrs. Redmayne’s mental vision, but she shook her 
head as she considered the improbability of such an ad- 
vent. 

“ There are oceans of money, I believe,” interjected the 
calmer Clara; “ but I don’t know about her being a prin- 
cess, though they do call her the Begum. And they say 
she has brought down five carriages with her, though that, 
I suspect, is a mistake.” 

“ But the Oriental servants are not a mistake. Only 
think, mamma, real Eastern natives of some sort, with tur- 
bans and scarfs and muslin, herein our Border county; 
and then the jewels. They say there are rubies and dia- 
monds and pearls on her toilette table fit to show in some 
exhibition. She must be a princess ; and then she dresses 
so splendidly and looks so well,” burst out Madge, as 
Maud was generally ‘styled at home 

Mrs. Rcdmayne arched her eyebrows. “ All this,” she 
said, “ sounds like a page from the ‘Arabian Knights,’ 
with the turbans and jewels, and, perhaps, black slaves 
carrying golden trays. But you have not told me who this 
wonderful person is ? ” 

“ Nobody seems exactly to know,” responded Clara ; 
“ but only think of the parties she is sure to give ! ” 

“ If only to show off her jewels ! ” added Madge. 

“And her face!” continued the elder sister; “since 
all agree that she is so very, very handsome — dark, of 
course.” 


74 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


“ Cleopatra in the nineteenth century ! ” observed the 
mistress of Old Court, who was fonder of books than were 
her bright-eyed daughters, and probably knew something 
more of the Greek Queen of Egypt than her bare name ; 
“ but you forget, my dears, that Cleopatra may have come 
here for the sake of quiet. That, in an English country 
neighborhood, can generally be had.” 

The girls, for a moment, looked blank. Their imagin 
ations had run riot as to the fetes to be expected at 
the Towers, which was really among the finest houses in 
the North of England, and belonged to a broken-down 
baronet, who was understood to vegetate in a shabby Paris 
entresol , but whose ancestors of the Georgian reign had 
kept up an over-bounteous hospitality under that now 
abandoned roof tree. But they were too young and too 
sanguine to disbelieve what they desired to come true. 

“ Come, come, mamma,” said Miss Redmayne, “ people 
don’t bring down fine carriages and a troop of servants, 
and dress gorgeously, and parade their jewels just to mope 
in solitude. I’ve heard that Saxham Towers was a pleasant 
house enough once upon a time, and so it may be once 
more under the new rule.” 

It was Mrs. Redmayne’s turn to laugh. 

“ There is another side to the picture,” she said, sagely. 
“Your Begum, or whatever you call her, must be rich, 
and may desire to spend some of her money on entertain- 
ments, but, even then, the question arises, where in these 
regions are the guests to come from ? She may be any- 
body. If no one knows her, she will not be visited. Her 
very name, as far as I can gather from what you tell me, 
seems almost as much a mystery as her antecedents. 
When first you told me that the Towers had a new tenant, 
I fancied that it had been taken by some Manchester man, 
just as Barborough Court was let to that Mr. Jones. But 
we have never called at Barborough since the Fenwicks 
ceased to live there, nor have the marquess, or the Sparkle- 
tons, or the Dykes, or any of our own set, though they say 
Mr. Jones is a millionaire. And an Eastern princess, who 
seems to have arrived here as if she had dropped from the 
moon, would appear even more of stranger here than if she 
came from Salford or Preston or Liverpool. Mr. Jones, 
at any rate, subscribes to everything, and his sons hunt, 
and his Scotch gardener carries off the best prizes at the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


75 


fruit and flower show. Some day, when Sir Anthony dies, 
we shall hear of his buying the house he rents, and being 
made a magistrate, and so take his place among county 
people. But, what can your Begum do if known to 
nobody ? ” 

All this worldly wisdom savored of disappointment and 
Dead Sea apples to the two light-hearted girls, who found 
their northern county decidedly dull, though they made the 
best of it, and who all but envied their brother, their idol- 
ized Harry, those gay doings in London, of which only the 
far-off echo reached their ears. 

The Redmaynes, of Old Court, though they had a son 
in the Guards, and though their pedigree was equal in anti- 
quity to that of the Harringtons, the Dykes, and the 
Fenwicks, could no more afford a regular season in 
London than one of the minor kingdoms of Europe can 
venture on the costly luxury of a great war. Sometimes 
Mrs. Redmayne was able to compass, for her daughters’ 
sake, six delightful weeks in the Modern Babylon, but 
more often did the demands of the mortgagees, and the 
necessity for a reduction of rents, cause the prudent squire 
to demur at such an outlay. 

And here was an illustrious stranger, a gilded, glorious 
Bird of Paradise from the Far East, come prepared to 
brighten, with a dash of Oriental splendor, the somewhat 
monotonous routine of country life, only to be received 
with headshakings and dubious scrutiny. It was too pro- 
voking ! 

“ I hate conventionality myself,” said Madge, the impul- 
sive ; “ and I think it very hard that there should spring 
up a prejudice against this lady merely because she is a 
little different from the humdrum people all around us. 
And the turbans, too ! It would be heartbreaking not to 
visit at such a house as that.” 

“ My dear, you mistake me,” replied Mrs. Redmayne, 
placidly. “ Of course we shall know her if other families 
do. But we must wait to see what introductions she has 
brought with her.” 

“ Depend upon it,” said Clara, confidently, “ she must 
be known to somebody, and have some reason for choosing 
her new home here. And she isn’t a bit like Mr. Jones, 
who drops his h’s, they say, and eats with his knife. She 
has sent down fine new furniture from London, though the 


7 6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Towers, you know, is supposed to be furnished, and still 
has the old sofas and chairs, no doubt, that belonged to 
poor Sir Perceval’s father or his grandfather. And there 
are forty men, I believe, at work in the neglected gardens 
that were a wilderness of weeds. And her carriage horses 
are as showy as Lord Cheviot’s own. I suppose she is a 
widow, but she is certainly young — young and beautiful, so 
every one who has seen her declares. But, of course, in her 
own style, dark, and rather large made.” 

“ And just the person to give enjoyable parties,” 
suggested Madge. 

“ I daresay she is,” calmly answered Mrs. Redmayne. 
“ And so, perhaps, may have been the Queen of Sheba, to 
whom your ideal portrait of the new-comer presents more 
than one point of resemblance. Well, you have aroused 
my curiosity, although I think, by nature, I am the reverse 
of inquisitive, and had I been in Fatima’s position, am 
quite certain that I should never have cared to peep into 
the forbidden chamber, nor meddle with Bluebeard 
Pasha’s keys. I should like, at any rate, at some archery 
meeting, or on other neutral ground, to see this extraor- 
dinary and fascinating stranger, the very report of whose 
appearance and surroundings has bewitched you both. It 
is a capital old house, the Towers, and one at which I 
remember to have danced and dined long ago — before 
your papa and I were married, or even engaged. And if 
the princess, as you call her, does but turn out to be 
acquainted with somebody, I admit that she may prove a 
valuable acquisition to the neighborhood. But here comes 
your brother,” she added, as, at that momenr, the door 
opened, and Harry Redmayne’s tall figure and good- 
looking, good-humored face became visible. 

“ Here I am, mother, and before tea time, it seems,” 
said the guardsman, sauntering in, wearing his shooting 
coat and leather gaiters with the same easy grace with 
which he wore scarlet and gold when on duty. 

“ Have you seen the Begum ? ” impetuously exclaimed 
both sisters at once. 

“ Begum ! What Begum ? ” demanded Harry, with a 
slight yawn. “ Oh, yes, I know now what you two are 
talking about. Yes, I’ve seen her, in her carriage at least 
■ — met her as I was driving back from Spark’s ” (“ Spark’s ” 
was Lord Sparkleton), “but, at any rate, I had a good 
look at her, and by Jove ! isn’t she handsome ? ” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


77 


The two Miss Redmaynes cast triumphant glances at 
their mother, for Harry, with them, was a domestic oracle, 
and his outspoken admiration of the stranger seemed to 
them to sanction the rose-colored picture that they had 
oeen pleased to draw. But just then the tea equipage was 
brought in, and the apparition of egg-shell china and 
frosted silver somehow turned the conversation into a new 
channel, and no more was said for the present of the 
remarkable tenant of Saxham Towers. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A STORMY INTERVIEW. 

It was a dark and lowering evening late in September. It 
was already half-past seven o’clock, some half hour before 
dinner time at Greystone Abbey, when a little wooden side 
door, in the remotest angle of the shrubbery, was silently 
opened, and a figure slowly, and, as it seemed, cautiously, 
slipped through, and reclosed the door as noiselessly as it 
had been opened. 

The door led into a lane that skirted the grounds and 
the park wall of Greystone, and which, at that hour, was 
even less frequented than usual. Unseen, then, and 
unnoted, the solitary figure passed on, and presently 
reached the high road, bordered to the right by a belt of 
shaggy and tangled woodland, and to the left by the 
brown heathclad surface of an apparently limitless moor. 

Through the deepening twilight, along the lonely road, 
the figure pressed on quickly, but pausing often, as if to 
make sure that it was not dogged by any stealthy spy. 

The figure was that of a young and active man ; one, 
too, who could walk well. Indian Shikarees, trained to 
guide European sportsmen through the jungle and across 
rocky nullahs, used to say that Richard Blarrington’s 
springy tread and untiring spirit wore out the best of them 
on such expeditions. 

His step was as swift as in those days, but he carried a 
load of care with him now that made his demeanor contrast 
strongly with the frank, bright bearing that had once been 
his. Why should a baronet slink, like a thief under cloud 


78 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


of night, from his own house, or why should he thread iiis 
way by devious tracks, turning his head often to assure 
himself that he was secure from prying eyes ? It was a 
wild night ; the cloud rack hurried on before the frequent 
gusts of wind, and there was no moon to replace the sun 
that had set sullenly in an orange-colored haze of watery 
vapor. 

Through the dusk, Sir Richard strode on, keeping as 
close to the edge of the dark wood as possible, while to 
the left spread the grand desolation of the heathery moor. 

Twice the approaching sound of wheels along the road 
made him start like a hunted stag that hears the distant 
baying of the hounds, and each time he glided into the 
wood, and placed himself behind a tree until the approach- 
ing vehicle had passed. 

The first sound was produced by a farmer’s tax cart 
jogging back from market. The second was caused by 
the passage of the open carriage from Old Court, bringing 
Mrs. Redmayne and her daughters home to dinner from 
some outlying visit. 

But in both cases, Sir Richard remained motionless in 
his lurking place until the noise had died away in the 
distance, and then resumed his solitary walk. 

Some twenty minutes, and he found himself at the 
lodge gates of Saxham Towers. The gates, as chance 
would have it, stood conveniently open, so that the 
baronet passed on, unchallenged, beneath the shadow of 
the great trees bordering the carriage road, still doing all 
he could to escape notice, until the mansion itself, with its 
lofty towers and gables and vanes and imposing frontage, 
was reached, and he was, as it were, compelled to reveal 
himself. He approached the front door, and, with a 
hesitating hand, rang the door bell. 

The door was soon opened, disclosing, instead of the 
ordinary British footman, an Oriental servant, clad in 
spotless linen and snowy turban, with a silver badge in front 
of it, engraved with some heraldic emblem, and with a 
crimson scarf drawn tightly round his slender waist. 

“ The Mam Sahib is at dinner, sir,” said this attendant 
in tolerably pure English, and then showed all his shining 
teeth in a grin of recognition. “ Why, it is the Ric Sahib ! ” 
he exclaimed, salaaming. 

“To be sure it is,” answered Sir Richard, in his turn 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


79 


remembering the lithe form and brown face of this Eastern 
importation. “ And I am sure, too, Nena Singh, that your 
mistress will see me. Here is my card, which you had 
better take to her at once.” 

Nena Singh obeyed, and quickly returned, with a fresh 
grin and a renewed salaam. 

“ This way, if piaster pleases,” he said, deferentially ; 
and, under his guidance, the baronet was inducted into the 
drawing-room, where large lamps of strange shapes threw a 
mellow light on the rich furniture of silk and gold and rare 
wood ; the ample curtains, the marble statues, the great 
porcelain vases and gilded jardinieres full of costliest 
flowers, of which all Wortham and its vicinity had been 
talking. 

The fashionable London upholsterer had done his best 
to gratify so wealthy a customer ; and the mirrors and 
hangings, the ottomans, the velvet carpets : everything 
told of splendor and luxury. 

The heavy scent of perfumes filled the air and mingled 
with the scent of the masses of hothouse flowers, while 
strange, Oriental knick-knacks and gewgaws, such as fans 
of peacocks’ plumage, ostrich eggs hooped around with 
gold, and jars of antique enamel or metal work, were 
strewed here and there in picturesque confusion. 

Sir Richard had refused to be seated. He remained 
standing under the soft light of the alabaster lamps, look- 
ing bitterly, and, as it were, resentfully, around. Some of 
the objects that met his gaze he had seen before far away 
from Saxham Towers. 

There was a jeweled dagger, for instance, lying beside 
a fan, on a tiny table, a dagger of which the sheath blazed 
with emeralds and diamonds, and around the haft of which 
was twined a serpent, modeled in pure soft gold, and with 
ruby eyes that seemed to threaten. How often had she 
told him — she who was now the mistress of the Towers — - 
that that dagger was poisoned, and that a scratch from the 
keen point meant agony and death. 

It was an unsafe toy to leave, as this was left, and might 
be dangerous otherwise than by accident. She, to whom 
it belonged, was, as he firmly believed, capable of any- 
thing, if once the fiend within her nature were aroused. 

He had heard of strange deeds done, otherwise than by 
the poniard, by those whose blood, like hers, was dashed 


So 


THE LADY EGER I A ; 


with that of Asiatic strain. A mere cup of coffee, a glass 
of sherbet, might at any moment be fraught with some- 
thing deadly, and 

Ah, here she is ! 

Slowly, majestically almost, the present occupant of 
Saxham Towers sailed into the room. There could be no 
mistake about her beauty. Harry Redmayne was quite 
right. 

She was a splendid-looking woman ; large, dark com- 
plexioned with a wealth of black silken hair, in which 
pearls and gold thread had been cunningly entwined, and 
with features that were more than handsome. Her great, 
lustrous eyes, the long dark lashes of which, when the eyes 
were not raised, rested on the smooth cheek, were eloquent 
with expression ; and the mouth was exquisite in shape, 
save that the red lips were rather too full and pouting. 
Her age might have been conjectured to be five-and- 
twenty ; but, Indian born though she was, she yet retained 
the nameless charm of early, youthful loveliness. 

There could be no question that her beauty was of a 
sleepy, voluptuous type that was thoroughly Oriental, and 
as little that her wrath, if once awakened, might be worth 
reckoning with. 

She was richly dressed, in glistening silk mixed with 
some gauzy material, and wore more ornaments than are 
usual in Europe. How well he knew the red light of the 
costly rubies that adorned her bracelets, and' that moony 
necklace of huge pearls, fastened with a clasp in brilliants, 
that encircled her graceful neck ! That there was some- 
thing queenly and Cleopatra-like about her was undeniable. 
It is no wonder that public rumor proclaimed her a prin- 
cess. Her face was brightened by a smile as she came in. 

‘•'You are welcome — welcome to my new home,” she 
said, putting out her hand. 

The baronet bowed with ceremonious deference, but he 
did not touch the proffered hand. 

“ I received your letter from London, saying that you 
were coming to live at the Towers,” he said ; “ and so I 
am here.” 

_ She had sunk, by this time, into the midst of a nest of 
silken cushions on the nearest sofa, and had taken up the 
fan, of red flamingo feathers, and gold and ivory, that lay 
on the table beside the poisoned dagger. Sir Richard 
remained standing, as before. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


81 


“ We meet again, under altered circumstances, said his 
hostess, slowly waving her fan to and fro, and fixing her 
speaking eyes upon his pale, fair face. “Your manner — 
excuse me, Sir Richard — is as chilly as your execrable 
English climate, at which I shiver, even in the summertide. 
I am not, as you remember, of the frigid temperament 
which suits your pallid skies and misty landscapes. With 
me, it must be hate or love. Which, Sir Richard, do you 
choose ? ” 

He made no reply, but again bent his head. 

“ Many things have happened since we met,” he said, 
guardedly ; “ and I have had my share of sorrow and of 
trouble.” 

“ I know that, and more,” rejoined the mistress of the 
house. “ For instance, how all but proved is now the 
treacherous murder of the missing man.” 

The baronet started as if stung. 

“ Too horrible ! ” he exclaimed. “ Murdered ? You 
cannot mean it ! He — murdered ! ’ 

The lady of the Towers laughed a little laugh, hard and 
cruel. 

“Your surprise, Sir Richard, does you credit,” she re- 
plied, mockingly ; “ I should have thought that you, of all 
mankind, were likely to be well informed on such a sub- 
ject.” 

The baronet’s stalwart frame shook, as if with palsy, 
and he grasped the gilded back of a crimson sofa near him 
for support. 

“ I swear to you,” he answered hoarsely — “ I swear, 
Zenobia, by all that I hold holy, that I did not know it j 
but even you admit that the — the thing has not been 
proved.” 

“ Well, no, not quite, as yet,” she answered, non- 
chalantly ; “ and you do well to keep your secret and 
affirm your innocence, but, you see, I have the means to 
mar your life, to blight your prospects.” Then, with a 
sudden change of tone, she added, “ But, why, oh, why, 
my once dear Richard, should we speak thus, as enemies 
speak? Surely you have not forgotten that you loved me, 
I you, then a penniless subaltern, without fortune or ex- 
pectations. I was engaged to be your wife. I gave you 
all my love. My large fortune was to be freely yours. 
Since then you have become rich and titled. But is your 

G 


82 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


soul so base and mean as to make that sudden rise in life 
an excuse for breach of faith ? Surely not. Again, Richard, 
it is Zenobia who offers her all — her heart, her wealth, all 
that a woman can give — for your love ! ” 

She bent her eyes upon him as she spoke — eyes that 
seemed to speak ; and then what music in her low rich 
voice ! It was a voice whose witchery it was hard to resist. 
It went on : “ Let there be a renewal of the old love, dear 
Richard — my Richard, my betrothed — and let all the past 
— all — be buried in oblivion for ever ! ” 

He stood, leaning on the sofa to which his hand clung, 
and his color rose and fell. 

“ I cannot, Zenobia,” he said, at last, in low and broken 
accents, “ answer you now as you would wish. Time — 
only give me time to think. I am unable even to com- 
prehend what you have now hinted to me — the hideous 
deed which — I am not able, on the spur of the moment, to 
reply as befits our position with respect to one another. 
Let me have some respite — some time to think it over. 
Then I will come again.” 

She bent forward towards him. She was so near that 
he could distinguish the odor of the musky Oriental per- 
fume that he so well remembered. 

“ Oh, Richard, am I not still beautiful ? ” she asked, re- 
proachfully. 

“ Yes, you are still most beautiful,” he answered, hoarse- 
ly, and averting his eyes from those dark, lustrous orbs 
that sought to enslave his will ; “ but I cannot — cannot 
bear this for to-night. Give me time.” 

She sighed softly. 

“ I will wait,” she said, very gently, and no longer using 
the imperious tone in which she had commenced the con- 
versation. “ Yes, dear lover, dear husband that is to be, I 
will wait. You have had much, as I know, to trouble you, 
poor boy. Think it over, then, my Richard, but let your 
answer, when given, be that which you know would 
gladden poor Zenobia’s heart.” 

He scpieezed the soft, plump hand that she had placed 
in his — his own fingers, as he did so, were cold as marble 
— and could scarcely trust his voice to say, “ Yes, yes ; 
but good-night now : I will go ! ” 

He lifted, as if mechanically, her hand to his cold lips ; 
then let it drop, and staggered rather than walked from 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


s 3 

the room and from the house, not heeding the salaams of 
dusky Nena Singh. Once in the open air he seeemed to 
breathe more freely, and strode on until he found himself 
once more on the high road. He returned home, walking 
with slow steps, but not taking any particular precautions 
against observations. This time he chose a longer circuit, 
passing his own entrance lodge, traversing the park, and 
ringing the bell at the hall door of the Abbey, somewhat to 
the astonishment of his servants. Sir Richard then went, 
as was customary with him, to the library. The old butler 
made haste to light lamps and candles. 

“ What time would you please to have dinner, Sir Rich- 
ard ? ” he asked. 

“I have dined,” curtly answered the baronet ; andthei*? 
was nothing left for Morris but to bow and retire. 

“ Something wrong with the governor,” was the verdict 
of the household. Something, indeed, was wrong with 
Sir Richard Harrington : badly, bitterly wrong. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A LETTER FROM THE TOWERS. 

Breakfast at Greystone Abbey was over. Sir Richard, 
whose appetite on that morning had been sharpened by 
the dinnerless conclusion of the previous day, had scarcely 
completed his solitary meal when a scented letter was put 
into his hands. It had been brought over, as the butler 
averred, by a mounted messenger from Saxham Towers. 
The baronet, with peevish impatience, tore open the hated 
missive. What, he asked himself, was the use of all the 
caution he had exercised, when this irrepressible woman 
chose to set discretion at naught, and to proclaim to local 
gossips that he and she were well acquainted ? Even if 
Morris had not mentioned whence came the note, he would 
have recognized her hand-writing among a thousand. I he 
very perfume that clung to the smooth, thick papei vas 
but too familiar to him. He glanced at the contents of the 
letter, and then rose, and going to a side table tossed off 
two successive glasses of cherry brandy to stead) his 


84 7 HE LAD Y EGERIA ; 

nerves. Then he reseated himself, and this is what he 
read : — 

“Dear Friend, — Yes, dear friend! for though I received, last 
night, no explicit answer to all I had to urge, my womanly instinct 
assures me that you are my friend, and always will be, as in days of old. 
But I am writing, now, for a purpose, and I will tell you what it is. 
It is not right — either for you, dear Richard, or for me — you see that 
I identify our interests — that I should be left any longer in this dubious 
position, ignored by my equals, and a mere source of wonder to the 
gaping crowd. I think it must have occurred, even to you — and men 
are less sensitive than we are — that I, who am in England for your 
sake, am a stranger in the land, and that I am not yet acquainted with 
any of your neighbors and friends. This must be remedied.” 

He uttered a fierce oath here, and seemed as though he 
were about to tear the letter into fragments, but prudence 
prevailed. 

“ It might have been worse ! ” he muttered. “ Yes, it 
might have been worse. I think I see her drift, and, at 
any rate, time may be gained, and circumstances may 
alter. 

He continued, then, the perusal of the letter, which 
went on as follows : — • 

il I look to you to introduce me — into the society of your native 
county, I mean, of course — and I need not say that I rely on your 
willingness to do so as soon as possible, since this unaccustomed soli- 
tude is irksome to me ; nor is my present anomalous position one which 
befits my station or my rank.” 

Again the baronet uttered an angry exclamation, and 
struck his heel upon the floor ; but he calmed himself, and 
read on : — 

“If there should be any party, any social gathering, projected 
among your friends at which I might suitably make my first appear- 
ance, you might probably procure me an invitation, and request one of 
the ladies who are known to you to present me, but in all respects I am 
willing to conform to the exigences of your English etiquette. In any 
case I look to you for help, and trust that you will write to me at once 
to say how you can best manage this, and what you think will be best 
for 

“ Your loving fiancee, 

“Zenobia Stone. 

“P.S. — Of course, I could not consent to be introduced by anvbody 
of inferior standing. The lady whose good offices alone I could accept 
must be of equal rank with myself, but this will already have occurred 
to you.” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


85 

He flung the letter from him and drummed petulantly 
on the table with his fingers. What was he to do ? Con- 
science made a coward of him — of him whose nerves, 
when confronted by physical peril, had never yet proved 
unsteady. He did not dare to refuse. And yet it was but 
yesterday that he had hoped to keep his knowledge of this 
woman a secret from those very neighbors with whom 
she now so imperiously insisted that he should make her 
acquainted. 

She had a hold on him that he could not shake off, and 
perhaps it was well that she had ceased to press for a 
reply to the point-blank question of the night before, and 
that she appeared to postpone her claim, to a matrimonial 
alliance at least, for the moment. But what she asked of 
him was, nevertheless, hard to grant — harder to deny. 
He was still a very young man, and had spent some years 
in India ; but lie was pretty well aware of the barrier of 
prejudice which a stranger such as Zenobia would have to 
elude or overleap before she could be recognized by the 
little great world of that northern shire. Yet it was not 
safe to thwart her, even by hesitating to comply. 

He buried his head in his hands, and for some minutes 
remained deep in thought. At last he rose from his chair. 

“ I think I can contrive it,” he said, slowly, as he twisted 
the tawny moustache that shaded his lip. “ I think I can 
contrive it, and I must, if I strain my influence to the 
uttermost. It must be done. As well trifle with a chained 
tigress as with that woman. I feel like some poor wretch, 
in old legends of the Middle Ages, who has signed a com- 
pact with the Fiend, and must fulfill the conditions of the 
cruel bond, or pay the grim forfeit. She knows her power 
only too well. It suits her humor, now, to obtain access 
to society, here in England, by my means, and I cannot, 
dare not, say her nay ! I would fain have kept our ac- 
quaintance dark, but she will not have it so. She is not 
content to parade her insolent wealth and splendor before 
a mere mob of gazers, but must have the suffrages of the 
‘ Upper Ten ’ as well. And it is to me — confound her ! — 
that she addresses herself thus confidently to further her 
wishes. I almost loathe myself because I am forced to do 
her bidding. Yet I must do it. I will see the marquess 
this very day. Meanwhile — ” 

He did not conclude the sentence, but, carefully refold- 


86 


THE LADY EGER /A ; 


ing the letter which had produced so disturbing an effect, 
he thrust it into the breast pocket of his coat, and repair- 
ing to the library sat down to answer it. For a long time 
he remained there, pen in hand, irresolutely looking at the 
blank sheet of note paper before him. Hating the part he 
had to play, lie did not know how to play it to the best 
advantage. At last he penned the following lines : — 

“ Dear Zenobia, — I think I can manage this for you. Very glad 
to be of service. At all events I will try. You shall hear again from 
me in a day or two. 

IC Sincerely yours, 

“ Richard Harrington.” 

This letter, duly enclosed in its sealed envelope, 
addressed to “ Mrs. Stone,” was despatched with all 
promptitude to Saxham Towers. And then, Sir Richard 
bethought him, that he must make his words good. He 
must see the Marquess of Cheviot, on Zenobia’s behalf, 
that very day. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SIR RICHARD’S INTERVIEW WITH THE MARQUESS. 

“ I have the greatest wish to meet your wishes, Harring- 
ton, my dear boy ! ” Such had been the genial reply with 
which the marquess met the request of Sir Richard 
Harrington. 

The very familiarity of the address meant much, for the 
owner of Hurst Royal had a strong sense of personal 
dignity which never forsook him, and which made him 
more punctilious towards others than is the case with 
many a well-meaning man. Lord Cheviot had conceived 
a great liking, as well as a high esteem, for his young neigh- 
bor, and he gave token of it by occasionally dropping the 
formal “ Sir Richard,” and calling the baronet simply by 
his surname. 

The two gentlemen were in the library at Hurst Royal, 
a room that differed considerably from the apartment at 
Greystone which bore the same name. The latter, as we 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


87 


know, had been the abbot’s parlor, and retained somewhat 
of its old ecclesiastical aspect. That at Hurst Royal was 
much larger and much better lighted, and had pillars and 
cornices of yellow Italian marble, a painted ceiling gor- 
geous with mythology, several tables littered with modern 
literature of all sorts, and a door opening into what was 
called the book room, wherein, amidst well-crammed 
shelves of tomes, folios, and duodecimos, sat a spectacled 
librarian, busied in compiling a new catalogue of old books 
and black-letter manuscripts. 

In the so-called library itself there were statues and 
pictures, and lounging chairs and easy sofas, and a thick 
carpet on which the feet made no sound. A pleasanter 
room, or a more comfortable one, it would be hard to find 
anywhere, and male visitors at Hurst Royal always remem- 
bered it with affection. 

“ You knew this lady, then, in India ? ” said the marquess 
again, after a pause. 

“ I knew her well, and so did my poor brother, Lionel,” 
he made answer ; “ and very kind and friendly she was to 
us both. At Futtehpore she was quite the queen of local 
society, and her house a very pleasant one, for as I have 
told you, her fortune was large and her hospitality bound- 
less.” 

“ Yes, yes, I can well imagine that,” rejoined the mar- 
quess. 

In his neart of hearts he sincerely wished that the lady 
had remained in India. He wanted to oblige his young 
friend, but a Begum was an awkward sort of personage for 
whom to stand sponsor, socially. 

“ Her name is Mrs. Stone, and yet she is, I think you 
mentioned, of foreign origin, and has native blood in her 
veins. Is there not, excuse me, a prejudice, perhaps un- 
reasonable, against such persons, on the part of English 
residents in India? ” asked the marquess. 

Sir Richard was preoared for such a question, and had 
his answer ready. 

“ Undoubtedly there is such a prejudice,” he replied. 
“ Country-born people of mixed descent — Eurasians is the 
more civil appellation — have to contend with a feeling 
similar to that which exists in America, where persons of 
color are concerned. And what seems odd to us, they 
are looked down upon in a still greater degree, by high- 


88 


THE LADY E GER I A ; 


caste natives of whichever creed. In Mrs. Stone’s case 
an exception was made. Her father was a poor soldier of 
fortune, but still of noble birth and old lineage. His 
name was the Vicomte de Lisle, and he got into the mili- 
tary service of the Nizam, and commanded, I believe, 
some of those Arab mercenaries of whom our own Govern- 
ment felt so excusably jealous. He married, I understand, 
a native Mohammedan lady in religion — at Hyderabad. 
There is plenty of good blood among the natives, both 
Hindoo and Mussulman, as I daresay you are aware.” 

The marquess was too well educated a man not to have 
heard of Rajpoot pedigrees that stretch beyond the time 
of Solomon and the Siege of Troy, and of Moslem houses 
dating from an epoch contemporary with the Norman 
Conquest. And then there was a French Viscount, cited 
as the immediate progenitor of the lady whom he was 
asked to patronize. He begun to entertain a higher 
opinion of the Begum of Saxham Towers. But he wished 
to hear more. 

“ Mrs. Stone is, of course, a widow ? ” he said, toying 
with a paper knife. 

“ The widow of a very rich commercial man, much older 
than herself,” answered Sir Richard, blandly, “who left 
her his large fortune quite unfettered by conditions, as I 
have heard. He was, I think, a Bombay merchant, but of 
that I am not quite sure. She was, however, very young 
when she married, within a short time of her being left an 
orphan, and Mr. Stone has now been dead for some 
years. His widow has always mixed in the best European 
society, and is known to possess, besides considerable 
wealth in Government securities, a jaghire or large estate, 
somewhere in Upper India, on which she has been ac- 
customed to spend a part of every year. Such possessions 
in India confer almost feudal authority over thousands of 
poor cultivators ; and it quite depends on the disposition 
of the Zemindar whether his sway proves a curse or a 
blessing to these people. But report affirms that Mrs. 
Stone is deservedly popular with her tenantry, and I, for 
one, can well believe it.” 

The marquess’ countenance brightened. This superb 
Begum, then, understood, as he did, that property had its 
duties as well as its rights. He always found his own far- 
mers, and especially his own colliers, difficult enough to 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


89 


deal with, in seasons of discontent, but, on the whole, he 
knew that he was personally liked, even by those who tried 
to get the better of him. . Visions of a yellow plain stud- 
ded with villages inhabited by a swarming population of 
dusky vassals, clad in white, and wearing the minimum of 
apparel, on account of climate and economy, floated 
vaguely before his mental vision, but he would not have 
cared to exchange his English estates for those of Mr. 
Stone’s widow. Yet it was much to the credit of the lat- 
ter that she should have won golden opinions in her 
capacity of Lady Paramount over her dark-skinned depen- 
dants. 

“ I am afraid,” said the marquess, changing his ground, 
“ that your friend the Begum will find England, or,’ at any 
rate, our neighborhood, somewhat dull and monotonous 
after leading what must, I should think, have been a very 
enjoyable life out in India.” 

Sir Richard smiled. 

“She may, after trying the experiment,” he made 
answer ; “ but just at present she is disposed to regard 
our country as an earthly Paradise. You can hardly un- 
derstand, Lord Cheviot, what England must appear to 
those who have never seen it, but have been accustomed 
to hear its praises continually chanted by hundreds who 
grow impatient of their exile in the East, and whose 
patriotism grows warmer with every year spent in Bengal 
or the Deccan. Our very climate, our very cookery, 
against which homestaying folk are never weary of in- 
veighing, come to be considered as absolute perfection by 
Anglo-Indians suffering from hot winds and troublesome 
servants. I only wish you could hear the outspoken 
enthusiasm of veteran majors and magistrates who, when 
once retired on their laurels, and settled at Cheltenham or 
Brighton, would blossom forth into inveterate grumblers 
against the British drizzle and the British cookmaid, our 
fogs and our rheumatics.” 

The marquess laughed. 

“ I hope,” he said, in his courteous way, “that the lady 
of Saxham Towers may have no very trying disappoint- 
ment to encounter during her sojourn amongst us. And 
I trust, I am sure, that her stay, be it long or short, may 
somehow be rendered pleasant to her. As I said, Sir 
Pdchard, I should be glad to serve any friend of yours, 


90 


THE LAD Y EGER/A ; 


and if the person for whom you spoke had been some 
former brother officer, nothing on earth would have been 
easier; but with ladies it is different, and etiquette and 
forms have to be attended to. If you will excuse my 
leaving you for a moment I will talk it over with my 
daughter, and we shall then see what can be done.” 

Left alone, the smile died out on Sir Richard’s young 
face as suddenly as some fickle gleam of sunshine deserts a 
wintry landscape, and he looked quite sad and anxious too 
as, with compressed lips and thoughtful eyes, he sat wait- 
ing. Not a glance had he to spare for the painted 
mythology blushing above, or the stately Corinthian 
columns of yellow Carrara marble, or the luxurious furni- 
ture of Lord Cheviot’s library. Not a thought had he of 
the treasured books which cumbered the shelves next door, 
or of the ancient manuscripts hoarded in press and cabinet, 
and which, to the careful and erudite librarian, seemed as 
important a trust as did the historical plate to the steady 
chief butler. He was quite absorbed in the probable 
result of his own unwelcome embassy, and could think of 
nothing else. Had he been actually on his trial for some 
great crime, and awaiting the return of the jury, he could 
not well have worn an expression of more carking care than 
now sat upon his fair features. 

Suppose the decision of Lady Egeria should be in the 
negative ? Women, he knew, have all manner of prejudice 
where a stranger of their own sex, a stranger of doubtful 
or mysterious antecedents, is concerned. “ Proud as a 
Fitzurse!” was an expression that Sir Richard remem- 
bered to have heard from his old nurse, in very early days 
indeed, and it had passed into a local proverb. He 
remembered that statuesque attitude that was habitual to 
Lady Egeria, and the calm pride of her clear eyes, a pride 
that seemed a part of herself. 

Not that he had had to complain, from the first, of any 
haughtiness or coldness on the part of the family at Hurst 
Royal ; but then he was a Harrington, and the friendship 
between his own race and the still grander stock of Fitzurse 
was hereditary. The marquess was the kindest of men. 
Lady Egeria had come to speak to Richard Harrington, 
her rejected suitor, with almost sisterly frankness and 
good nature. 

A great peer like Lord Cheviot may perhaps feel in his 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


9i 


heart of hearts that his degree is more exalted than that of 
a great commoner, like the baronet of Greystone Abbey, 
but never had he by word or look betrayed such a senti- 
ment. Once received at Hurst Royal on intimate terms 
a guest was made to feel himself the equal of his enter- 
tainers. 

Very bitter, however, were Sir Richard’s thoughts as he 
waited for the marquess. 

“ It is so easy,” he muttered, “ to say ‘ no,’ and yet I 
may as well put a pistol to my head as try to stave off 
yonder exacting fury by lame excuses for not complying 
with her commands. Yes, it is easy to say ‘ no.’ But 
those who use the formula are not aware how often it may 
sound, in the ears of people who are denied some boon, 
like an actual doom of death.” 

Presently the marquess came back, radiant with good 
humor, and it needed but a glance at his face to see that 
he had not come as a messenger of ill. 

“Well, Harrington,” he said, genially, “I have ex- 
plained the matter to Egeria, and have told her who this 
lady is, and whence she comes and why you wish, out of 
gratitude for past kindness, that her stay in England here 
should be made as pleasant as possible. My daughter 
has accepted without hesitation the office of being sponsor 
for this Mrs. Stone, socially speaking. There — there ! no 
thanks ! not the least need for that. Egeria desired me to 
say that after your noble courage in saving her, that Black 
Water day, she can refuse you nothing, and that you may 
fully reckon on her assistance. If you like, she and I will 
go with you any day you please — except next Thursday ; 
Thursday I shall be busy ; promised to meet the delegates 
of those Silverseam Colliery hands on strike, over at 
Wortham — to call at Saxham Towers and make acquain- 
tance with Mrs. Stone. After that, nothing can be easier 
when next a party is given than to ask for a card of 
invitation for her. She can go, then, with Lady Egeria in 
the carriage, and be introduced to her hostess and the 
principal people there. And then every one will call, and 
she will be in the thick of whatever goes on, such as it is. 
Not going, my dear boy? You must stay to luncheon.” 
But for luncheon Sir Richard would not remain. He 
sent his warm thanks by the marquess for Lady Egeria’s 
great kindness with reference to his request, and fixed on 


92 


THE LAD Y EGERTA ; 


Tuesday, if convenient, as the date for the proposed visit 
to the Towers ; and then he shook hands with the mar- 
quess, and his horses were ordered round. 

Once in the saddle, and out of sight of the windows of 
Hurst Royal, Sir Richard was able to be natural again. 

“ It is lucky,” he muttered, stroking his tawny moustache 
as he rode slowly on through the deer-haunted park, with 
its vistas of craggy and heath-crested uplands beyond, 
“ that we do not live in the Palace of Truth, and that the 
language of diplomacy is safely to be employed, A pretty 
picture I have drawn this day, touched up with rose color 
and with nothing in it to which British prudery could 
object.” 

Here Wildfire snorted and reared, and then plunged, as 
hot tempered horses, especially chestnuts, often do, on 
some trifling provocation, in a manner that might have 
been disagreeable to some riders. But Sir Richard sat 
his fiery steed in apparent unconsciousness of this revolt, 
and pursued the current of his own thoughts. 

“ How could I ever have been mad enough to think, 
even when I had no more chance of Greystone than of 
becoming Emperor of China, of marrying such a woman 
as that? I’m certain she must have bewitched me some- 
how. It could not have been her confounded money, in 
the coarse and common acceptation of the word. I am 
no fortune hunter, and I should have felt more than half 
ashamed to handle those money bags that old Stone left 
to his beautiful widow. I did not venture to hint to the 
marquess how that precious old rascal raked together his 
rupees. An opium smuggler in the days of the old China 
War, a partner of Hassan Ali, the great Arab slave dealer 
whose dhows, full of African captives destined for the mar- 
kets of Persia and Yemen, were always being chased by Her 
Majesty’s gunboats across the Red Sea. Add to these 
illicit practices that of usury on a grand scale, from farm- 
ing the revenue of an indolent Rajah to accommodating 
some feather-pated subaltern with a loan at cent percent., 
and there you have the sources of Mr. Stone’s fortune. 

“ I have romanced somewhat, too, as to my fair friend’s 
pedigree. Of course, there was a germ of truth. Zeno- 
bia’s father, the French renegade, who literally sold his 
soul in turning Moslem to curry favor with the Nizam and 
his Vizier, and who was known at Hyderabad as Sirdar 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


93 


Abdallah, really was the Vicomte de Lisle. But the native 
lady of rank whom he wedded in his old age was but a 
Bayadere, a professional dancing girl, whose beauty and 
fascinating arts her only child inherited, along with a mass 
of other Oriental qualities, though the viscount chose to 
have his daughter educated at Madras as a Christian, and 
gave her every accomplishment that money could buy. 
Then he died, and she was pretty enough and clever 
enough to make old Stone lay himself and his dirty money 
at her feet. She married him, and he died, and his ill-got 
wealth bought her admission into European society, thanks 
to the skill with which she played her cards. In England 
people are apt to be more squeamish. I wonder what the 
marquess would have said if he had known the whole 
truth about the Begum — ay, ^and Lady Egeria too ? Ha ! 
you brute, you want to have that fire taken out of you, do 
you ? ” 

He tightened the reins as he spoke, and let his plunging 
horse feel the sharp spurs. Off flew the fiery chestnut at 
racing speed, the startled groom riding hard behind to keep 
his master in view. On this occasion, Sir Richard did not 
select the shortest road to his home, and when, at last he 
reached Greystone, and Wildfire, with heaving flanks and 
heat-stained skin, was led round to the stable yard, the 
fire, for that time at least, had been effectually taken out 
of him. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE LAWN MEET. 

Visits had been exchanged between the Begum of Saxham 
Towers and the most noble family at Hurst Royal. Lady 
Egeria had kept to the spirit as well as the letter of her 
promise, and had been very gracious to the new comer. 
Mrs. Stone had since received from Sir Richard Harrington 
a card of invitation to a breakfast party to be given at 
Greystone Abbey on the occasion of a lawn meet of the 
Border Foxhounds. And Lady Egeria was pledged to call 
at the Towers, and convey its mistress in her carriage to 
Greystone, there to be made known to the magnates of the 
county. 


94 


THE LADY EGER LA ; 


It was early October now ; too early for the legitimate 
pursuit of Reynard to have begun, and tough old Sir 
Simon, the M.F.H., grumbled somewhat at being asked to 
arrange a lawn meet at the Abbey, when mere cub-hunting 
was the order of the day. 

“ Hang me if these ladies don’t seem to regard the 
hounds as a Punch and Judy sort of affair ! ” growled the 
veteran, “and me as the showman. Whereas, with those 
who understand the thing, hunting is a business.” 

However, he agreed to come, and that the mottled pack 
that he called his “ beauties,” and of whose performance 
he was so amusingly proud, should ornament the wide 
lawn of the ancient Abbey. The late Sir George had been 
a stout supporter of the noble sciences, and his son, if less 
interested in rural sport, at any rate, kept up his subscrip- 
tion, while the keepers on the Harrington estate would as 
soon have trapped a sheep as a fox. 

The auspicious day came in due course, and it was one 
of those on which the much-abused English climate is at 
its best. There was a peculiar touch of soft, mellow 
radiance in the clear sky, a particular sparkle in the 
balmy, sun-gilded air, that might in vain have been looked 
for on the continental side of the Channel. It seemed as 
if Autumn had dressed herself in smiles to make up to 
mortals for the departure of jocund Summer. 

The oaks were golden green yet, relieved by patches of 
russet, and the beech trees showed a tint of palest bronze. 
Yellow sheets of gorse blossom and broom flower fringed 
the hillsides, and the purple heather of the moors rolled 
away in endless varieties of color. No need to consult 
barometers to see whether rain was to be feared. “ Set 
fair ” was written, in characters sufficientlv legible to the 
weatherwise, on the sunflecked woolpacks of white vapor 
that sailed lazily before the gentle breezes across the blue 
of the sky, and in the very lights and shadows that played 
on tree trunk and peach wall. 

It was no secret among the invited, or the uninvited 
either, for that matter, that young Sir Richard was giving 
this party for the especial benefit of the semi-0 riental 
tenant of Saxham Towers, and that the Marquess of 
Cheviot and his daughter had exercised some sort of 
influence, direct or indirect, to ensure that the baronet’s 
invitation should be accepted by many who might other- 
wise have shrunk from meeting the strange Begum. 


95 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 

£i If they have taken her up at Hurst Royal, there’s no 
more to be said ! ’ was a remark made by a good many 
ladies who knew they were to encounter beneath the 
Abbey roof the splendid stranger, whose irruption into that 
quiet country nook they had at first been somewhat 
inclined to resent. It was certain, now, that the house of 
hitzurse had extended its distinguished patronage to this 
Mrs. Stone from India. Wherefore Mrs. Stone from 
India, like plate that has been stamped with the hall mark, 
was understood henceforward to pass everywhere as 
genuine metal and no counterfeit. 

A lawn meet, when favored by the weather, is commonly 
a pretty sight. The hounds, the horses, the gleams of 
scarlet are well set off by the greenery and the trees, and a 
domestic architecture that may vary between Norman 
gateways and turrets, Tudor gables and vanes and latticed 
windows, or the comfortable red brick ugliness of the 
Georgian reigns. 

The venerable stones of the old Abbey, glistening in the 
sunlight, looked well, and the huge trees of the park, 
which must have been old when Naseby and Marston Moor 
were fresh-fought fields, towered majestic, to the light and 
left of the carriage road by which the mansion was 
approached. The breakfast was in itself a sumptuous 
affair, beyond the organization of the excellent old house- 
keeper, and a London provider of such entertainments had 
received carte blanche to send down what was wanted, and 
had executed the order on a large and lavish scale. 

Too many guests were expected for the dining-room to 
be of much use. It was in the old hall, once the refectory 
of the Abbey, that the festivities were to take place. 
How little had the former monastic owners of Greystone, 
as they trooped in, two and two, in cowl and robe, at the 
ringing of a deep-toned bell, dreamed of a day to come 
when mere secular company of both sexes should banquet 
there ; pink coats and top boots side by side with silks and 
laces and velvet, and scarcely a soul of those present have 
even a thought to spare for those by whom the pile was 
reared, and the lands reclaimed from their original con- 
dition of swamp and brake. 

Mrs. Stone arrived presently, in the great yellow 
barouche from Hurst Royal, seated at Lady Egeria’s side. 
The marquess, who meant to follow the hounds, had pre- 
ferred to go across to Grepstone in his brougham. 


9 6 


THE LADY EGER/A ; 


There was quite a flutter of expectant curiosity among 
the guests when Zenobia sailed in among them. She was 
splendid in every sense of the word ; her half Oriental 
magnificence of dress contrasting with the rich simplicity 
of Lady’s Egeria’s attire, and her jewels, worn at that early 
hour in ignorance or defiance of the unwritten laws of 
polite society, flashed back the sunlight. And that she 
was superbly handsome none could well dispute, however 
little her dark beauty and the strange expression of her 
lustrous eyes might conciliate the good opinion of those 
who were prejudiced critics. Her very shawl was such as 
would have graced a royal wearer in the East, a marvelous 
fabric in which gold thread blended with many-colored 
pu shorn from Thibet, and which she wore carelessly, as a 
mere scarf, over her Lyons velvet and Delhi silk, and 
cloth of gold. Her very finery seemed a part of herself, 
so natural to her was it to be surrounded by all that money 
could buy, and so thoroughly had her ideas been moulded 
from early days according to the Oriental standard. 

Sir Richard came forward to welcome his guests. “ Thank 
you so much ! ” He took an opportunity of saying these 
words aside to Lady Egeria, who received them with a 
frank smile. 

She did not choose to encourage him as a suitor, but she 
was quite willing to be his friend. And for his sake she 
had consented to make a quasi-public appearance in com- 
pany with the lady from India, whom she now proceeded 
to introduce to what might be considered as the cream of 
society. 

Lady Sparkleton, Mrs. Redmayne, of Old Court, Lady 
Dyke, Mrs. Fenwick, Lady Margaret Foster, of Thrapley 
Castle; these, and others of the same degree, became the 
acquaintances of the late Mr. Stone’s widow. Lady 
Janet Fitzurse the Begum knew already. A few words, a 
few smiles, some murmured expressions about “ having the 
pleasure ” of calling at Saxham Towers, and the invitation 
was complete. 

The gentlemen present were, for the most part, eager 
for an introduction to so handsome a woman. The thing 
was done, and Zenobia as fairly launched in the small 
whirlpool of county dissipation as if she had been a bride 
just brought home by one of those born in the purple of 
local aristocracy. How would one and all of those, who 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


97 


now accepted her on the faith of Sir Richard’s rose-colored 
history and the Hurst Royal patronage, have recoiled if 
they had but known the real truth concerning the ante- 
cedents of their new neighbor. 

And then there was the breakfast itself, with the long 
tables bright with hothouse flowers and vases of gold and 
silver, and enlivened by the brisk popping of champagne 
corks, and the lively flow of conversation that was all the 
merrier because spurs were jingling and scarlet coats were 
worn, and some of the ladies wore riding habits, and were 
prepared to take their share in the more active business 
of the day. Of course old Sir Simon, the M.F.H., was 
made much of, as a master generally is, and though he 
growled, it was in the tone of an amiable bear who is not 
unwilling to be mollified by bright eyes and honeyed words. 
Without his growl, Sir Simon would never, in his own 
opinion, have been able to get on, to give satisfaction, to 
show sport, to keep rash intruders from riding over his 
hounds and the young wheat, to be respected alike by the 
Hunt and by the farmers^ and to discharge the other duties 
of his station. But he reserved his more imperative modes 
of address for the time when he should be in the saddle 
and his “ beauties ” in cover. 

There were among the invited some who had no pre- 
tensions to take rank with the Upper Ten of the Shire. 
The Mayor and Town Council of Wortham had been 
asked, quasi officially, as in Sir George’s time. Rough 
gentlemen farmers, and others who followed the hounds, 
found a place at the tables, and among them was worthy 
Dr. Malstock, who had hunted in his bachelor days, and 
took an honest interest in the sport for its own sake. He 
had come up in his gig now, determined, through his 
knowledge of lanes and points of view, to see something 
of the run after the fox broke away. 

But the belle of the occasion, the cynosure of all eyes, 
was certainly the beautiful Zenobia. She was radiant with 
smiles and good humor, pleased with her reception, and 
gracious to all. Seldom had Sir Richard seen her face 
wear an expression of such serene content. 

The truth was that she felt it a kind of triumph to be 
received at once into the ranks of those whom she had 
always heard rumor make mention as cold and exclusive 
to a fault. Breakfast over, the interest centred itself in 

7 


9 8 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


what, in Sir Simon’s eyes, was the serious business of the 
day. 

There were Bottomley Gorse to draw, and Cranmore 
Wood, the immemorial haunt of foxes, and where blank 
days had hitherto been unknown. Horses and carriages 
came round ; there were mounting and drawing of girths, 
and adjusting of habits and shortening of stirrup leather, 
as those who were to follow got ready for the fray. 

It was a wide lawn, that of the old Abbey, and so closely 
shorn with scythe as to resemble a sheet of green velvet, 
and on its well-mown surface the hounds were pic- 
turesquely grouped around their grey-haired huntsman, an 
oracle in his way, and to whose opinion even Sir Simon 
secretly deferred. There were even those who said that 
Purkiss found and killed the foxes, though the M.F.H. had 
the useful knack of taking credit for successful casts, just 
as Louis XIV. claimed praise for the victors of Turenne. 

At any rate, Purkiss was a personage, and it was curious 
to see the earnestness with which Sir Simon, as soon as he 
had swung himself into the saddle, conferred in under- 
tones with his subordinate, like a commander-in-chief 
conversing with a general of division ere the battle began. 

Then the signal was given, and the hounds started at a 
trot, the whippers-in riding like staff officers beside a 
column on the march, while, after them, streamed the 
mounted contingent, and then came the file of carriages. 

The two Redmayne girls were on horseback ; so, too, 
was Lady Sparkleton, who was mounted on a white Arab, 
with long tail and pinkish nostrils, a gentle creature, but 
which fidgeted enough to make a great deal of attention 
necessary on the part of such cavaliers as rode near the 
professional beauty’s bridle rein. Her husband, with 
Harry Redmayne, had pushed on among the first. 

It was Lord Sparkleton’s custom on such occasions to 
give his wife as wide a berth, so to speak, as possible, in 
the certainty that she would be well taken care of, at gaps 
and gates, by several somebodies. 

The marquess, on his weight-carrying hunter, rode beside 
Sir Richard, who was on a chestnut called Mayfly, a new 
purchase of his father’s that had never yet been seen in 
the hunting field, at least in those parts. The Squire of 
Old Court, on his white-footed cob, professed to be only 
out to enact the part of escort to his girls, “who might 
break their necks but for me.” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LrGHT. 


99 


In the Hurst Royal barouche, with its strawberry- 
leaved coronet on panels and harness, were Lady Egeria 
and her new friend. And among the other equipages was 
an empty carriage, drawn by horses as fine as could be 
furnished by a fashionable dealer at his own price, and 
which was to receive the present mistress of the Towers 
when the show should be over and the return home 
should commence. 

A find in the Gorse would have been, on the ladies’ 
account, preferable. But foxes, so early in the autumn, 
are inconsiderate enough to like the woodlands best, so 
after a very cursory drawing of the former covert, twang ! 
twang ! went the horn, and with cracking of whips and 
halloas to Ranger, Ravager, and Ranter to come to heel, 
the hounds were hustled out of the furze brake and off to 
the wood, into which they plunged. 

The carriages waited outside. So did Dr. Malstock in 
his gig, shading his eyes with his hand as he peered up- 
wards to note the exact direction of the wind, and so did 
not a few riders, notably Squire Redmayne and his girls. 

“ I know the fox will break on the other side of the 
wood,” poutingly observed Madge, as she rode up to 
Lady Egeria’s carriage, “ and we shan’t see a bit of it. I 
do call that so selfish ! ” 

However, before long the music of the hounds, quaver- 
ingly began by one, swelled into a chorus, and the fox, as 
if to vindicate his character from the vague accusation 
of selfishness, broke, in the most courtier-like fashion, 
from the shelter of the wood, and went off at a rattling 
pace across common, pasture and turnips. 

“ In for a breather, but there’ll be a check at Clayland,” 
exclaimed Dr. Malstock, urging his gig horse to its fastest 
trot, and striking into a narrow lane parallel with the 
fox’s course. 

So thought the Squire of Old Court, and hurried his 
daughters off along the lane too, followed by a dozen 
more who eschewed cross-country work when it could be 
avoided. The squadron of horsemen got itself into strag- 
gling order out of the wood, Sir Simon and the servants of 
the Hunt keeping, without apparent effort, close to the 
racing pack, now in full cry. 

The marquess pulled up for a moment to give his 
coachman instructions. 


IOO 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


“ I have told Rogers to drive as quickly as he can to 
Clayland’s Farm by the road/’ he said : “ that will give 
Mrs. Stone a fair chance of seeing something of the sport 
— new to her, though very tame, I daresay, after the tigers 
in India.” 

Sir Richard also reined in his horse to say a word or 
two as he passed, and Zenobia smiled on him, too point- 
edly perhaps, for he was glad when Mayfly reared erect, 
and then with a back jump and a vicious sloping of the 
ears, bored at the bit, and broke away to follow the other 
steeds. 

“ Too hot — too hot ! ” remarked the marquess as his 
young friend at last got the better of the horse’s temper ; 
“but there’s some deep-ploughed land before us that will 
make the chestnut more reasonable. There goes Spark- 
leton over the hurdles ! ” 

Lord Sparkleton’s example was followed by the baronet, 
the marquess preferring to lose a few yards and open a 
a gate. Then the chase swept on, but the prediction was 
fulfilled as to a check near Clayland’s, and when the scent 
was recovered, the young fox was found, like a hare, to 
have doubled back to his native wood. 

Time, however, had been given for the carriages to come 
up, and before the horsemen had vanished into the wood- 
lands, Mrs. Stone had caught several glimpses of flashing 
scarlet and galloping steeds, and of the dappled pack. 

“I hope you have enjoyed it,” said Lady Egeria at 
parting. 

“ Yes, thanks to you, very much indeed ! ” answered 
the lady of Saxham Towers, with her sweet, false smile. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

ANOTHER LETTER FROM INDIA. 

It was exactly a week after the lawn meet of the Border 
Foxhounds that the marquess at Hurst Royal received a 
letter which bore an Indian post mark, and which caused 
him great disquiet. And, indeed, those highly-organized 
systems of communication which are indispensable to 
modern society do produce occasional results the most 
strange and startling. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


ioi 


That network of slender telegraph wires that stands out 
blackly against the skyline may at any moment be fraught, 
not merely with tidings of death or ruin, but with messages 
ot doom that are to do the actual work of Nemesis, the 
Avenger of Guilt. 

1 hat quick, imperative postman’s knock may herald in 
as dire a tissue of misfortunes as ever issued from Pan- 
dora’s fabled box, and no one is so secure from evil news 
as to be quite indifferent to what the familiar appliances of 
nineteenth-century civilization may at any time bring 
home to him. 

the letter which occasioned so much mental perturba- 
tion to the marquess was from a nephew, and a favorite 
nephew, of his late wife, a certain Lord Alfred Mortimer, 
titled subaltern in a Hussar regiment in India. Loid 
Alfreds and Lord Fredericks are not always very well 
provided with this world’s goods, and this especial scion 
of the ducal house of Mortimer was under considerable 
obligations to his uncle by marriage. 

The marquess had ample means, and Lord Norham was 
not an expensive son and heir, so that the noble owner of 
Hurst Royal had been able to put his purse, more than 
once, at the disposal of his wife’s nephew without feeling 
himself perceptibly the poorer for the debts he had paid. 
And young Lord Alfred had the grace to repay this kind- 
ness by being a correspondent at other seasons than when 
he wanted money. The letter which he had recently 
penned was as follows : — 

li My Dear Uncle, — My last was from Delhi, and I mentioned, I 
think, in it that we seemed likely to remain where we were for some 
time, but the Government, in its wisdom, knew better, and gave us the 
route much earlier than was expected. Here we are at Futtehpore, 
whither we have been ordered to relieve the — th Lancers, who also, I 
believe, were as much astonished as ourselves at the promptness of 
their change of station. Perhaps the authorities wanted to see how 
quickly such a transfer could be effected under the present conditions 
of road and rail. 

“ After Delhi this place seems dull. To you, however, who have 
never been out here in this broiling climate, I daresay one Indian gar- 
rison seems very like another ; but, really, Futtehpore is different from 
anything that I have yet seen in this country. The town — the bazaar, 
as they are pleased to call it — is but a mean affair, but some of the 
scenery near is good, and the di trict far better for sporting purposes 
than any part of India where I have yet been quartered. L ts of snipe 
and black partridge in the swamp ; deer, elk, and boars in the jungle; 


102 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


and among the hilly tracts further afield, a certainty of bears, and a 
fair promise of tigers. They say that Amarat Rao, the Rajah, gets up 
magnificent hunting expeditions now and then, with an army of 
beaters and a camp equipage fit for a campaign, and I can only hope 
that I may have the luck to be one of the invited, for I should like to 
see the Burra Shikar on a grand scale. 

“ I, for one, shall be glad when the cold season, as they call it, sets 
in, since this place, when we got to it, was fearfully hot, and Leslie, 
poor fellow — I think you knew his mother, Lady Laura — of ours, died 
quite suddenly of sunstroke two days after we arrived. \Ye lost six 
privates and the regimental sergeant major, a fine old fellow, liked by 
all, from the same cause. I wish the colonel would be a bit earlier as 
to the hour of parade, but he sticks to his old habits, just as though we 
were at Aldershot. 

“ By-the-bye, there are some very ugly rumors current as to a former 
officer of the — th Lancers lately in cantonments here, and whose 
name, since he is a neighbor, must be well known to you. I mean Sir 
Richard Harrington, who lives, I believe, at Greystone Abbey, where I 
remember to have dined with old Sir George. People’s tongues wag, 
and he is accused for nothing less than murder — the murder, as I under- 
stand, of a wandering European adventurer called Travers or Travis, 
and who was once a hanger on of the Rajah here. 

“ India, you must know, my dear uncle, is a sad place for tattle and 
scandal of all sorts, but this charge goes beyond mere gossip, and sounds 
very serious, though improbable. Some people will have it that there "was 
ill blood between this fellow Travers and Mr. Harrington as he was 
then. One thing is sure -; the man has been mysteriously missing ever 
since a date that nearly coincides with Harrington’s departure from this 
country. Lie was a sort of vagabond, like most Europeans who come 
out here, unaccredited, to try to pick up a livelihood among the natives, 
but they say he was a sort of a gentleman, too, in manners and address. 
At the palace they profess to know nothing, but that he was suddenly 
lost sight of. The brigadier in command got the Resident to ask the 
prince himself if he could throw any light on the matter, but he, like 
others, was unable to solve the riddle. He interrogated his servants, 
etc., but with no result. Of Harrington the Rajah speaks in very high 
terms, since, it seems, he was often at the palace, and always asked to 
those hunting parties that I mentioned ; but, as for the lost man, no- 
body has any positive certainty as to his fate. 

“ There have, it seems, been inquiries set on foot, in a half-legal, 
half-private way, at the instigation of some relatives or friends, I sup- 
pose, of this same lost man, who suspect foul play; and rightly or 
wrongly, public report mingles Lieutenant Harrington’s name with 
his ; hard upon him, I admit, if this be all moonshine and he as igno- 
rant of this fellow’s whereabouts as the rest of us. I really think it 
would be but fair, when you see Sir Richard, to tell him how people’s 
tongues are busy with his name, and so give him an opportunity of clear- 
ing his reputation, which I am sure, I, though a stranger to him, should 
be glad to hear that he had done. This has grown to be an unconsciously 
long letter, so I will only beg to be kindly remembered to my cousin, 


OR, B ROUGH! TO LIGHT. 


103 

Egi j'ia, and to Lady Janet Fitzurse, if she is still at Dower House, and 
remain, affectionately, 

Alfred E. Mortimer. 

“ Futtehpore, Sep.— , 18 — . 

“ P.S. — The missing man’s name, I have just heard, is Walter 
d ravis. He was a sort of a sub-Surveyor on the railway before he got 
into the employ of the Rajah, and that is all that is known of his 
antecedents.” 

To say that this lettter disquieted the recipient is to use 
a mild phrase. The Marquess of Cheviot stared blankly 
at the words he read, and then perused the unlucky docu- 
ment for a second and a third time, as if to make quite 
sure that there was no mistake. 

His state of mind was a painful one. He did not in the 
least believe in the truth of so horrible an accusation 
against his young friend and neighbor, but it was shocking 
and monstrous to him that such a report should be in 
circulation. The marquess was a good man and the very 
soul of honor, and slow to think evil. What was he to do ? 
It seemed to him a kind of insult to tell the young master 
of Greystone that rumor chose to make him a murderer. 

And yet, would it be acting a friendly part to keep 
silence, and leave Sir Richard unaware of the vile whispers 
that were current concerning him ? These infamous 
stories could not be ignored. They should be met and 
refuted, and their authors, if discoverable, brought to 
punishment ; so the marquess honestly opined. But none 
the less did he shrink from defiling his own lips by the 
mention of such a charge. 

Lady Egeria was unable, throughout that day, to 
account for the change that had come over her father’s 
manner. The marquess was one of those genial gentlemen 
who can scarcely be ruffled by trivial annoyance. The Sil- 
verseam colliers, in their rebellion, had vexed his soul, but 
not worried his equable temper. Now he became taciturn, 
preoccupied, and almost testy, even with Egeria. 

The old servants saw that something had chafed their 
master, and probably jumped at the conclusion that the 
disturbing cause was some care connected with the prop- 
erty. Whereas the marquess’ feelings were wholly disin- 
terested. What could be done? To tell Sir Richard 
what he had heard, or to allow him to visit at Hurst Royal 
on his usual footing of intimacy, while this frightful blot 
was on his fair fame, seemed equally objectionable. What, 
indeed, was to be done ? 


104 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FIRST SHADOW OF THE TERROR. 

Lady Egerta Fitzurse was alone in the great drawing” 
room at Hurst Royal, in the same spot, and nearly in the 
same attitude, as when first introduced to the reader. 
This time, however, she had not the listless air which she 
had then worn. On the contrary, her heart beat with 
quick throbs, and there was an unusual tinge of color in 
her beautiful, calm face, for she was looking forward to an 
interview that could scarcely be devoid of some anxiety 
and pain. It was now two days since the letter from 
India — the letter of Lord Alfred, her cousin — had reached 
Hurst Royal. 

The marquess had at length confided to his daughter 
the care which had of late embittered his very life, generally 
so free and joyous ; and, to his great relief, Egeria had 
taken what he considered the sensible view of the affair. 
She was quite sure of Sir Richard’s innocence. She was 
equally sure that it was impossible to let so atrocious a 
rumor pass unnoticed. It was surely right to inform the 
young baronet of the malicious stories atloat. And when 
the marquess demurred. Lady Egeria volunteered, so to 
speak, to bell the cat, and agreed to be the one who should 
communicate the unwelcome news. 

Sir Richard was expected at Hurst Royal. The mar- 
quess had sent him a note inviting him to take luncheon 
there at two o’clock. “ We have no party, and shall be 
quite alone, but shall be much pleased if you will come to 
us,” had been Lord Cheviot’s written words. The accep- 
tance had been unhesitating. Sir Richard was, indeed, in 
the seventh heaven of delight. It was the first time, 
intimate though he was at Hurst Royal, that he had been 
asked to come there quite alone. That Lady Egeria was 
relenting towards him was, he thought, more than pro- 
bable. 

Now he began to hope that the wind had changed, and 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


10 5 

that there was yet a prospect of bringing home so noble a 
bride to Greystone. She had forbidden him to renew his 
suit, but ladies do not always like their prohibitory behests 
to be obeyed. He trusted that after luncheon he might 
find an opportunity of bridging over the chasm that separ- 
ates the friend from the lover. 

In this frame of mind he rode over to Hurst Royal, 
sprang lightly from his horse, and tossed the bridle to the 
groom. It seemed to him as though he were walking 
upon air ; and when he was announced in the great draw- 
ing-room, he appeared so elated and so pleased that Lady 
Egeria eyed him with a sort of surprise. 

There was not, at first, time for much speaking. The 
marquess came bustling in, with outstretched hand and 
short, jerky speeches, very unlike his usual serene utter- 
ances. But Sir Richard, intent on his own hopes and 
projects, scarcely noticed the confusion in his noble host’s 
discourse. 

During luncheon the nervous uneasiness of the marquess 
was so marked as to cause Sir Richard more than once to 
look at his distinguished entertainer with surprise, wonder- 
ing what could have occurred. He was himself in the 
highest spirits. Never had Lady Egena known him to be 
so talkative, so blithe and amusing. His gay good-humor 
seemed so spontaneous that she could not help recalling 
to her mind a north-country superstition that she had 
learned in childhood from her Scottish nurse, and which 
had reference to those who were “fey,” or unnaturally 
excited and joyous, just as the Angel of Death had 
marked them for an early doom. 

Luncheon over, Lady Egeria again took Sir Richard’s 
offered arm, and led the way to the drawing-room. The 
marquess did not follow. So soon as she had resumed her 
seat, Lady Egeria turned her clear eyes full upon the 
young man’s face, flushed with excitement and anticipated 
triumph. 

“ I have something to say to you, Sir Richard, that costs 
me much to say.” 

The words, unwillingly uttered, fell from her lips like so 
many drops of frozen hail, and chilled, somehow, the glow 
of hope within the listener’s bosom. He bowed silently, 
and waited to hear more. 

“ You have been asked here to-day, Sir Richard, because 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


106 

evil rumors are abroad, and must reach, one day, the eyes 
or ears of all who live around us, and which have reached 
us already. My father was unwilling to speak, and so, as 
I stand pledged to be your friend, I have taken it on my- 
self to tell you what we have learned, leaving it to yourself 
to act as you think best. I trust you will credit me with 
kindly motives.” 

Sir Richard’s flush had given place to a sickly pallor. 
Again he bent his head in silence. This, then, was the 
reason for that invitation which he had hailed as a sign of 
relenting towards himself and his suit. It was to break 
bad news to him that he had been asked to Hurst Royal. 

“ Papa has had a letter — which I will show vou, if you 
please — a letter from India ! ” 

“ I thought as much ! ” exclaimed the baronet, and then 
bit his lip savagely, for he felt that he had damaged his 
cause by the tell-tale speech. What he thought was that 
the truth had come out about some of the shady antece- 
dents of the triumphant Zenobia, and that he was about to 
be reproached for having persuaded the marquess and his 
daughter to act as social sponsors to the widow of an 
opium smuggler and the descendant of a race of dancing 
girls. 

“ I mean,” he said, hastily, “ that I have little cause to 
love that country, or to expect any good from it, as you 
know.” 

“ I do know,” replied Lady Egeria, softly and sorrow- 
fully. Then she resumed : “ I find, Sir Richard,” she said, 
“ that the task I have taken upon myself is harder and 
more distressing than I thought it would be when I was 
rash enough to undertake it. Yet I must speak out. You 
have enemies, it seems, in India, and things are laid to 
your charge that it seems shocking even to think of. I 
need not say that we, your friends, do not believe the 
scandalous accusation that some people at Futtehpore and 
elsewhere, arc — I fear, Sir Richard, you are ill ! ” 

His face was almost livid now, and his hand was pressed 
upon his heart, while his eyes were dilated and fixed, and 
his white lips gasped for breath. By a mighty effort he 
seemed to shake off the symptoms of emotion, and said, as 
steady as he could. 

. “ It is nothing— only 'surprise. But I should like to 
know the worst.” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


107' 

“You had better, then, read the letter at once,” she 
said, as she unfolded it and held it out to him. He took 
it mechanically, but with fingers that quivered like an aspen 
leaf, and began to read ; but the characters placed upon 
the paper swam before his dazzled eyes, and it was not at 
once that he could grasp the meaning of the words. Pre- 
sently, however, his hand ceased to tremble, the color 
mounted to his face, and when he had completed the peru- 
sal of Lord Alfred’s epistle he rose from his chair an altered 
man. His eyes were bright ; his look high and proud. 

“ What infamy ! ” he exclaimed ; “ what baseness ! Lady 
Egeria, do not mistake me ! ” He made haste to add, 
“ To your cousin, the writer of this letter, I impute no 
blame. He has but echoed the lying report of my de- 
famers. But I could find in my heart to start for India this 
very night that I might drag into the light of day these 
busy-bodies who have dared to blacken my good name.” 

He was very much in earnest now ; his voice was elo- 
quent with honest indignation, and there was a sad dignity 
in his bearing that made him, in Lady Egeria’s eyes, more 
like his brother than she had ever seen him look before. 
She put out her hand to him, in a generous impulse of 
sympathy. 

“ Dear friend — Sir Richard,” she said, “ papa and I knew 
and felt how false must be this story from the first.” 

“ False, indeed ! ” he repeated, eagerly. “ Why, Lady 
Egeria, will you believe that I never, to my knowledge, 
even saw this man whom they choose to say I — murdured ? 
The name he bore : what was it? Travers — Travis — yes, 
Walter Travis — is as strange to me as his face would have 
been. I knew nothing of him. I gather from the letter 
that he was one of those raving Europeans who, in India, 
always seem more or less under a cloud, and who are put 
to strange shifts for a livelihood. Sometimes they get ill- 
paid work to do in what is called the Uncovenanted 
Civil Service ; sometimes are employed in a printing office 
or an indigo plantation ; and at other times they worm 
what they can out of rich natives, or hang about some 
mosque and barter their religion for a pension of a few 
rupees. The company of adventurers of that sort I always 
shunned, though I have known the colonel admonish some 
of our subalterns who had thoughtlessly picked up acquain- 
tances of such a kind. And why should I, of all men, be 


io8 


THE LADY EGERIA : 


taxed with the death of a fellow to whom I never spoke is 
inconceivable.” 

“The man, it seems., had been in the service of the 
Rajah AmaratRao, whom I believe you knew/' said Lady 
Egeria. 

“ Of the Rajah — of Amarat Rao,” said Sir Richard, in 
an altered voice And he again glanced at the letter 
which he still held in his hand, “ Ah, yes ! Amarat Rao, 
the Rajah — strange — most strange ! ” 

He allowed the letter to fall unheeded on the floor, 
turned his face towards the window, and for a time stood 
mute and motionless. Then he groaned aloud, and when 
he turned again towards Lady Egeria, she was moved to 
pity as she saw how haggard was his face, how wild and 
wan his eyes, as of one who sees before him a spectre. 

“ I am quite unmanned to-day,” he said, hoarsely, “ and 
hardly know how it behoves me to act. But at any rate, 
Lady Egeria, you may assure the marquess that I shall 
not rest until I have cleared my reputation from the 
slander which ” 

“ Which none who know you, none who owe you a debt 
of gratitude, as we do, can for an instant fail to disbelieve,” 
said Lady Egeria, loyally, as she, too, rose from her seat 
since the baronet had turned towards the door, and seemed 
about to go. His horses, according to previous orders, 
had been already led round, and the stamping of their iron- 
shod hoofs was audible on the gravel without. 

“ I thank you,” he said, sadly, and with a sort of 
humility that contrasted oddly with his late fearless look 
and bold denunciation of his nameless accusers. “ This 
has come upon me very suddenly,” he said in the dull, 
monotonous tone of a sleep walker, “ and I must have 
time to think over the course I ought to take — time — ” 

As he spoke he dropped into a chair, hiding his face 
with his hands, and seemed oblivious of the presence of 
Lady Egeria, whom he had left standing near him. She 
respected his grief, and remained silent, and presently the 
young man rose, reeling. 

“ Forgive me — forgive me ! ” he exclaimed, with a 
ghastly effort to smile, but not attempting to touch Lady 
Egeria’s offered hand. “ But I must go now, for this 
maddens me. I must be alone.” 

He staggered from the room as ne spoke, and from the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


109 


house, crossing the wide hall with a halting step, and 
mounting his horse slowly and wearily to ride home. 

Sir Richard went back to Greystone in a very different 
state of mind from that in which he had left it, buoyant 
and light-hearted with hopes renewed, for, whatever might 
be the nature of the load upon his conscience, at least his 
love for Lady Egeria was sincere and deep. Now those 
hopes were crushed, utterly crushed, and in their stead a 
nameless, haunting fear had taken possession of his soul, 
and threatened to weigh him down. Brave as he had 
often shown himself to be when confronted by mere 
physical peril, he quailed now at the shadow of the terror 
that he knew was sure to dog his footsteps at the last. 


CHAPTER XX. 

JASPER FINDS HIMSELF RETAINED ON BOTH SIDES. 

Again did Sir Richard Harrington find himself alone in 
the abbot’s parlor, and present library, at Greystone. It 
was the morning of the day on which he had been invited 
to Hurst Royal, and had learned from Lady Egeria’s lips 
what scandals were rife concerning him. 

He had passed a miserable night, weird dreams alter- 
nating with feverish unrest. His scarcely-tasted breakfast 
over, he went to the liqueur stand on the sideboard, and 
tossed off three successive glasses of Chartreuse to steady 
his nerves, and then repairing to the library, began to pace 
the floor with quick, impatient strides. The news he 
had heard had nettled his temper, while conjuring up 
before his mental vision a dismal prospect of coming ill. 

A flush of wrath rose to his cheek, even now, as he 
thought of the land he had left, and how, at tiffins and tea 
parties, his name was probably bandied about from lip to 
lip, coupled with nods and innuendoes. He had been 
popular, but nothing is more evanescent than a popularity 
founded on no more stable basis than a fair face and plea- 
sant manners, and he was assured that already a verdict 
had been given against him by many who were ready to 
believe anything against the absent. 

“ I know some harridans there,” he muttered to himself, 


I IO 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


“ who delight in tearing a reputation of man or woman to 
tatters. And my being rich, and with a handle to my 
name, will only help to procure a verdict, socially speaking, 
of guilty, with aggravating circumstances. What am J 
to do ? ” 

It was a question easier asked than answered. His im- 
pulse, in the first moment of anger and surprise, had been 
to start for India; there to silence the tongues of back- 
biters. That, on second thoughts, appeared Quixotic and 
useless. To preserve a dignified composure, to ignore the 
story, and live it down would probably have been the 
advice of some very phlegmatic, not to say cold-blooded, 
councillors. 

But so passive an attitude suited ill with his sensitive 
nature, nor was he certain that it would be in accordance 
with the dictates of common prudence. Was there no 
middle course — nothing between inert quiescence and 
hurrying back to Futtehpore? He had acquaintances in 
abundance at the place that he had left, but no friend on 
whose discretion he could trust. Nor was he known to 
any man of business residing in India, and on whose good 
offices he could rely. 

“ I think I have it ! ” Such was Sir Richard’s soliloquy 
after more than half-an-hour’s deep thinking. “Yes, that 
will be the best. The man is, no doubt, somewhat of a 
knave, but his wits are as sharp as a razor, and in this case, 
the knave’s services will, by the tie of his own self-interest, 
be secured to me. India, of course, will be a novelty 
quite out of the routine of his regular experience, but from 
what I have seen of him he is just the man to adapt him- 
self in a moment to new ways and new conditions. 

Sir Richard was -pleased with himself, and glad to have 
puzzled out the expedient which now seemed to him as a 
plank of safety whereby to bridge the dangerous chasm 
that yawned beneath his feet. There was, however, in his 
opinion, no time to be lost. The Marquess of Cheviot 
was not the only neighbor who might have correspondents 
in India, and accusatory rumors have a knack of flying 
from land to land, and of spreading broadcast over the 
country. He must act at once. 

On this occasion, Sir Richard did not choose to ride. 
He ordered round his high tandem, with the two fast- 
stepping greys that had been Sir George’s usual equipage 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


in 


when he went on wheels, and had Morris and another 
groom, with folded arms and cockaded hats, sitting behind 
him as he drove over to Wortham. 

Many, no doubt, who saw the mail pnaeton flash by, 
with its silver-mounted harness, well-bred horses, and 
liveried servants, were disposed to feel a little mild envy 
of the young and handsome man who held the reins, while 
none could guess the dark and desperate thoughts that 
passed successively through his busy brain. 

The Rose and Crown, old-fashioned inn and posting- 
house, where coaches changed their teams, and yellow 
traveling chaises with “ first turn out ” of nags and postil- 
lions, were in requisition, was still the True Blue Hotel, 
patronized, especially at election times, by the elite of the 
sport of the county, and to the Rose and Crown the master 
of Greystone drove accordingly when he entered Wortham. 
He even lingered there to exchange a few words with 
chatty, buxom Mrs. Brooks, the middle-aged landlady, who 
was proud of knowing the names, ages, and number of the 
children of those landed gentry who were her chief sup- 
porters, and who really seemed to take a sincere interest in 
Miss Edith’s engagement to the captain and Master 
Edward’s promotion in the Foreign Office. And he called 
for some sherry, which he did not want, and sipped it, 
and praised it, before he left his horses and servants to 
rest and refreshment at Mrs. Brooks’, and strolled off on 
foot into the town. For was it not well, just then, to win 
over to his side all tongues that he could ? 

The same spirit actuated Sir Richard when, as he 
approached Mill Lane, towards which he had taken a 
somewhat circuitous course, he saw the lad, Jerry, who 
had held his horse on the occasion of his first visit to Mr. 
Holt’s office, furtively eyeing him from the opposite side 
of the narrow and grimy street, but without any overt act 
of recognition. No one else was in sight, and Sir Richard 
paused and beckoned. The gesture was of the slightest, 
but the boy came shambling across the street in a moment. 

“Glad to see, Jerry, that you have a good memory,” 
said the baronet as he slipped half-a-crown into the ready 
hand that clutched it eagerly. “ One day, perhaps, I may 
find a job for you that will bring you in more than this. 
’Till then we are strangers as before.” 

Jerry grinned assent as he pocketed the coin. “ I’m 


I 12 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


fly, governor,” he made answer in a low voice ; “ and I’m 
game — late or early, town or country, ’tis all one.” 

Then, seeing a dismissal notified by a nod, the lad 
touched his cap with a dingy forefinger, and shuffled 
round the corner in an instant. A minute later, and the 
baronet was at Mr. Holt’s door, and had stretched his 
hand towards the bell pull. He was spared the trouble of 
ringing, however, for at that moment the green door was 
noisily opened, and a rough-looking, loud-voiced man 
emerged, smiting his spurred riding boots with his loaded 
whip, and talking of horses, splints, spavins, and “ good 
for a cool hundred pounds at the Assoizes.” 

Behind this talkative client appeared the dark head and 
over-bright eyes of Jasper. “ Good-day, good-day, Mr. 
Hatch ! ” said the lawyer, cheerily. “ We’ll work to wind- 
ward of ’em, never fear.” 

And then, when the clanking spurs and heavy tread 
of the local horse dealer had ceased to echo on the pave- 
ment, he bowed civilly to the baronet. 

“ Quite at your disposal, Sir Richard,” he said, and led 
the way into his narrow and untidy office. It cost the 
master of Greystone some embarrassment to make the 
nature of his business clear, but at last the awkward sub- 
ject was mooted, and Jasper’s teeth and Jasper’s eyes 
seemed to glitter with redoubled brilliancy as he listened. 
There was a sort of half-suppressed sense of enjoyment in 
the expression of the Wortham solicitor’s face as he heard 
the baronet out. Then came a pause. 

“ You forget, Sir Richard, that you have not yet told me 
what you would have of me ? ” said Jasper, softly. 

Sir Richard winced. 

“ You are right, Mr. Holt,” he said, with an attempt to 
laugh, “ and I was wool gathering, I fear, and had better 
come to the point at once. I have come here to ask if 
you will consent to act for me, and to go out to India on 
my behalf.” 

“ About this business?” purred Jasper, showing his 
white teeth again. 

“ About this business, of course ! ” replied the owner of 
Greystone. 

Jasper picked up the office ruler, and meditatively 
tapped his shining teeth with the end of it, while eyeing the 
baronet, for a full minute, in silence. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


n 3 

“ Ahem ! ” he said, after this interval for thought. “ It 
is a far cry, as our Scottish neighbors say, to India, Sir 
Richard, if you will excuse my reminding you of the cir- 
cumstance, and quite, therefore, out of the usual beat of a 
professional man.” 

“ And therefore, Mr. Holt, such a piece of service should 
be handsomely remunerated,” was the baronet’s smooth 
response. “ I propose to offer a thousand pounds, over and 
above all traveling expenses and incidental costs, for the 
loss of your valuable time, should you feel willing to oblige 
me as I have suggested.” 

“Well, Sir Richard,” rejoined the lawyer, dubiously, 
but with twinkling eyes, “ such a journey will entail some 
inconvenience, and be hard to reconcile with my duties 
towards ordinary clients. But I feel the very great impor- 
tance, to yourself, of this affair, and am not insensible to 
the compliment involved in your confidence, my very dear 
sir. The object is, I think, to trace out the truth, is it 
not ? ” 

“ The object is to silence lying tongues ! ” said Sir 
Richard, almost fiercely. “ Track, if you can, these vil- 
lainous stories to their authors, and confute them. Learn, 
if you can, the actual whereabouts of this fellow Travis, 
who may be, for aught I know, in Calcutta, or at Singapore, 
while supposed to have died at Futtehpore, and offer re- 
wards by advertisement in the Indian newspapers, native 
and European, and set spies to work. All this will cost a 
good deal of money ; but of money I shall not be sparing. 
Now, Mr. Holt, if you accept the mission — and I read 
acceptance in your look — when can you start — to-mor- 
row ? ” 

The Wortham lawyer made a wry face. “ Short notice,” 
he said, “ but I am so desirous to meet your wishes, Sir 
Richard, that I will undertake to set my regular business 
in order, and go up to London to-morrow by the night 
mail, and thence to the place of my destination as fast as 
steam can hurry me there. I will, if you will allow me, 
draw up a short paper, authorizing me to act for you, if 
you will be good enough to sign it. That will suffice for 
my credentials, he ! he ! he ! ” And, tittering at his own 
thoughts, Jasper took a pen and began to write. The 
memorandum that he drew up was terse and clear, so that 

8 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


1 14 

the baronet, after glancing it over, signed it without de- 
mur. 

“ And, ahem ! ” said the solicitor, coughing expressively 
behind his broad hand. “ As to the sinews of war, Sir 
Richard ? ” 

“ I had not forgotten that,” replied his titled client, 
taking out his pocket-book, and producing from within its 
leaves three slips of paper, which he laid upon the office 
desk. “ Here are three cheques, made payable to your 
order, and each for two hundred and fifty pounds. Should 
more be wanted, more, of course, will be forthcoming. 
This is a subject on which I feel very deeply, and I grudge 
nothing to bring the matter to a satisfactory conclusion.” 

jasper’s eyes glowed as he swept into his pocket the 
gold-compelling oblongs of paper. 

“ Right you are, Sir Richard,” he rejoined, “ and it is a 
pleasure to deal with a gentleman who has so keen a sense 
of what it is best to do. Liberality — judicious liberality, 
like yours — is seldom thrown away. Whereas, I have had 
monied clients who really seemed to expect an agent to 
fight the Battle of Waterloo, as it were, without powder 
and shot. Yes, I’ll take these with me, and, of course, 
account for them afterwards. I am to be freehanded, am 
I not, when I get among our dusky fellow subjects, yon- 
der ? ” 

“ Certainly,” said the baronet, twisting his moustache 
with a thoughtful air; “ and remember, Mr. Holt, that you 
are going to a country where perjury and fraud are rank, 
and where false witnesses start up like mushrooms after 
rain whenever there are a few rupees to be made by 
crooked statements. You will be surprised, I think, by 
the amount of fiction that will greet you when you com- 
mence your investigations.” 

“ We have some hard swearers in England,” coolly 
replied Jasper ; “ and my experience of horse chanters and 
hokey-pokey shipowners, as they are called, at Coalport 
and Rockhaven, will, I daresay, enable me to understand, 
when in India, the working of the native mind. You shall 
hear from me as early as I can get upon the track of the 
missing man — Travis, I think you called him, Sir Richard 
— yes, Walter Travis,” continued the lawyer, consulting 
some hasty notes. 

“ Please also to bear in mind,” said the baronet, earnestly, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


!I 5 


“ that another inquiry, undertaken, I fear, in a spirit hostile 
to my interests, is going on, and that your path may cross 
that of the enemy.” 

Jasper’s teeth and Jasper’s eyes flashed forth intelligent 
appreciation of this warning, and he chuckled audibly. 
“ The parties you speak of, Sir Richard,” he said, confi- 
dently, “ will have to get up very early in the morning 
before they weather upon us, forewarned and forearmed 
as we are. In these ca?es the victory is commonly to the 
sharpest wits, especially when backed by the longest purse, 
eh, Sir Richard ? ” 

“ The purse shall not be lacking, and the wits, Mr. Holt, 
I can trust to you to supply,” rejoined the baronet, gloom- 
ily, for Jasper’s merriment was out of tune with his own 
highly-strung nerves. “ But I will thank you to remember 
that this is no joke to me.” 

“ Indeed not,” chimed in the lawyer, suddenly becoming 
as grave as an owl. “ Murder, Sir Richard, or the impu- 
tation of it, is always a serious thing, and a good deal may 
be said, too, about defamation of character. Swinging 
damages, if the law of libel be the same as with us, would 
surely be granted by any court, if ” 

“ Not for a moment to be thought of ! ” interrupted Sir 
Richard, frowning. “ The object is to crush down these 
vile stories, not to trumpet them forth to the world by the 
help of paid advocates of the press. When first I heard 
the tidings my impulse was to hasten back, and to check 
such tattle — by the pistol if necessary ! ” 

Jasper pursed up his lips and shook his shaggy head. 
He had not a high opinion of the duel as a mode of white- 
washing a blackened reputation. “ Couldn’t fight through 
such a wasp’s nest as that, Sir Richard,” he said, deci- 
sively. 

“ I suppose not,” answered the baronet, with a forced 
smile, “ and will, therefore, leave the matter to your care 
and skill. Let me have a word by telegraph — from 
Brindisi, or from Egypt, as you choose — since I shall be 
glad to know that you are well on your way. And, if you 
wish to talk to me again before starting, I shall be at home 
all day to-morrow, till after seven o’clock, at least, for I 
have to dine at Old Court. Now I will shake hands, and 
wish you a good journey and success.” 

Left alone, the lawyer sat for some time rubbing his 


ii6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


broad hands together, and smiling at his own thoughts. 
Then he slowly rose from his chair. 

“ Why, Miss Mavina,” he exclaimed, “ this serves your 
interest, and mine, too, for the matter of that, as well as if 
our friend yonder, with the bloody hand in his escutcheon, 
had chosen to play our game for us. It is not every day,” 
he added, slapping the pocket that contained the cheques, 
“ that a man finds himself retained professionally, on both 
sides, as it is my luck to be ! ” 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE ANNUAL HUNT BALL. 

It was a foggy evening in November — it was, indeed, the 
second of the month — and Zenobia Stone’s carriage was 
rolling smoothly along from Saxham Towers towards the 
Town Hall of Wortham, where, as usual, the Annual Hunt 
Ball was to take place. 

Some ten days previously she had received a card of 
invitation, whereon figured the names of stewards and 
lady patronesses. In the latter list the name of Lady 
Sparkleton and Lady Egeria, in the former that of Sir 
Richard Harrington, were included. 

Many other carriages freighted with company were 
wending their way towards the same goal that night, for 
the Annual Hunt Ball was an event in the somewhat mono- 
tonous life of the grandees of the county. 

Their own social gatherings, their picnic and parties, had, 
no doubt, the charm of exclusiveness ; but there is a same- 
ness in meeting always the identical set of people and 
discussing the identical topics, and the Hunt Ball, like a 
race or a review, afforded neutral ground whereon those 
born in the purple might for a time share their enjoyment 
with others differently circumstanced. There was just 
sufficient difficulty in getting vouchers to enhance in the 
eyes of outsiders the privilege of breathing the same air 
with local' magnates, and not enough to keep out any one 
of tolerable station. 

Wortham was justly proud of its Town Hall, an edifice 
that had been built in those magnificently corrupt, old 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


117 

Tory times, when unreformed corporations, chosen from 
among the leading families of the place, often did not know 
what to do with the public money which they handled offi- 
cially. Sometimes such funds were spent on feasts ; not 
seldom they were jobbed away for the private benefit of 
the handlers and their kith and kin ; now and then they 
were more righteously laid out on schools or bridges 

'The Wortham ediles had been lavish as to brick and 
mortar, and there, as the fruits of their liberality, stood the 
big Town Hall, a world too wide for the every-day needs 
of the borough, but admirably adapted for an occasional 
assemblage such as the Annual Hunt Hall. 

Upstairs there was a very large room, with ever so many 
windows in its imposing frontage, and a fine stuccoed ceil- 
ing that had resounded to the din of many fiddles, and the 
echoes of Kentish fire and loyal after-dinner songs, in the 
old war time, when Mr. Pitt and the squires and the upper 
bourgtoise of England were bidding defiance to France 
and democracy, and discontent with things as they were. 

What banquets had been held in that great room, what 
bumpers of port and punch tossed off in wassail to “ Great 
George, our King, the Heaven sent Prime Minister, and 
the Worshipful the Mayor,” and what dances had taken 
place on that floor in those days of high prices and large 
profits, it would be hard to chronicle. At any rate there 
was the room, ready for use when wanted. 

It had been prettily decorated now — the huge room ; 
perhaps more tastefully than had ever been the case in the 
feasting, frolicsome period of the long French War. There 
were many flags, well grouped, and greenery and hothouse 
flowers, and gleaming stars, formed of bayonets from the 
volunteer armory, on the walls ; and the music gallery had 
its rails draped with bright-colored silken festoons, while 
the lighting was incomparably better than anything that 
our grandfathers and grandmothers, used to enjoy them- 
selves by the poor twinkle of a handful of wax candles, 
ever saw. 

Some handsome furniture had been lent, too, by the 
owners of mansions near Wortham, and in the supper room 
downstairs the display of silken and velvet couches 
and sofas and lounging chairs was really notable. Then, 
too, there were more flags and flowers, and green, glis- 
tening leaves that made the bare cold walls assume the 


ii8 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


aspect of some sylvan bovver, relieved here and there by 
patches of rich color and flashes of steel. 

Here, at long tables, constantly replenished with fresh 
wines and viands, was spread a supper that was to last till 
the close of the entertainment, for in that northern shire 
there lingered some traditions of the boundless hospitality 
of the past, and there was no attempt to put off hungry 
dancers with light refreshments and a scrambling skirmish 
among stinted chickens and fast-vanishing sandwiches, as 
is too often the case at a subscription ball. 

Zenobia, with her jewels and her rich attire, that set off 
her voluptuous style of beauty better than a simpler dress 
could well have done, made her entry with some eclat, and 
caused quite a flutter of excitement among the many who 
knew the Begum of the Towers only by report. Her rubies, 
her pearls, her diamonds, large as they were, were magni- 
fied by the imaginations of those who elbowed their way 
forward to peep at the Oriental stranger, until her splendor 
swelled to proportions that would have graced the Court 
of Aurungzebe himself. And a murmur of genuine admira- 
tion for the good looks as well as the precious stones fol- 
lowed her as she went, and sounded musically in her ears, 
for she was far from indifferent to the popular verdict. Her 
place, however, was among the social Brahmins at the 
upper end of the great room, which she reached, leaning- 
on the arm of handsome Harry Redmayne, whom the 
white satin rosette on his coat pointed out as one of the 
stewards. 

The Begum was very well received by the local digna- 
taries of both sexes. Times were changed since first, to 
please Sir Richard Harrington, the marquess and his daugh- 
ter had undertaken the troublesome task of introducing 
her. She had been taken in amongst the initiated, and 
was duly recognized by those who held the keys of society. 
And she had been lionized for her own sake. No party 
was held complete unless the beautiful Zenobia were num- 
bered among the guests ; and the lady from India had 
eaten the salt, as it were, of many who had not the slightest 
suspicion of her own dubious antecedents or the queer 
origin of her wealth. 

That the heir of Old Court admired her — too much, per- 
haps, for his own peace of mind — was pretty patent to all 
shrewd observers. He was a steward, but he shirked his 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


1 19 


duties, on that night, in the most graceless way, to hover 
about Zenobia Stone, and to be her devoted cavalier. 

There were other stewards, of course, to supplement the 
deficiences of the guardsman. The cavalry garrison of 
Coalport had sent every available officer to the Wortham 
ball, and two of them — Major Vere and Captain Paget — 
wore the white rosette. So did Sir Richard Harrington, 
whose careworn young face, and the look of anxiety that 
he vainly strove to bapish, seemed out of place in a ball- 
room. 

The Marquess of Cheviot was present, of course, and so, 
equally as a matter of course, was old Sir Simon, the 
M.F.H., to whom dancing appeared in the light of violent 
exercise for lunatics, and who eschewed balls as a Turk 
shuns pork, but who made it a rule to attend this particu- 
lar festival of Terpsichore in a new scarlet coat, lined 
with white silk, in honor of the noble science of fox hunt- 
ing. 

The master was not the only wearer of scarlet. Other 
“ pink ” coats appeared, here and there, among the dancers, 
for now legitimate hunting had begun, and the previous 
day had been chosen for a lawn meet, at Hurst Royal this 
time, at which there had been also a sumptuous breakfast 
and a great muster of equestrians. 

Sir Richard had been there, had ridden through the run, 
on his vicious horse Mayfly, so dashingly that he would 
have won the brush had not brush giving been obsolete, 
and so rashly that wise heads were shaken and predictions 
muttered that if the young master of Greystone did not 
succeed in breaking his neck, at any rate the fault would 
not be his, so perversely did he seem to pick out the most 
dangerous places and the biggest jumps. 

That Sir Richard should, in the midst of carking cares 
and ever-present anxiety, have sought a little unwholesome 
excitement at the risk of broken bones might well be 
credited by those who saw how vainly he tried, in the 
Town Hall of Wortham, to seem in tune with the holiday 
scene around him. 

He was not one of those who fly to the bottle to drown 
care. When he drank, it was to steady his nerves in some 
moment of emergency, but wine afforded him no glow of 
even temporary pleasure. Danger — physical danger — did 
so, and hence his desperate performance in the hunting 


120 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


field and his preference for the vicious Mayfly to the merely 
hot-tempered Wildfire. Luckily, when a horse is vicious, 
he almost always possesses sinews of steel, and not seldom 
a catlike agility in difficult places, and the baronet’s chest- 
nut hunter accordingly came back safe and sound after a 
furious course across country that made oldsters stare, 
procured a paragraph in the county-newspaper, and 
elicited from Sir Simon the pithy comment of “ Mad ! ” 
uttered as a stage aside. Now Sir Richard had a look 
decidedly hangdog, and his forced smile, when he did his 
best to feign the unconcern he could not feel, was almost 
ghastly. 

Mavina Malstock sitting, under her father’s chaperon- 
age, in a corner of the great room, eyed the baronet bale- 
fully, and yet with a stealthy glance of half-suppressed 
triumph. Never, since that unlucky episode of the ruby 
ring and of Lady Sparkleton’s interrupted song, had Sir 
Richard spoken to Miss Malstock. He had encountered 
the doctor’s daughter, thanks to Lady Egeria’s good offices, 
at more than one party, but had only acknowledged her 
presence by the most formal of bows. 

Now he saw her well enough, but refrained from any open 
act of recognition. He did not in the least connect her 
image with that of his own agent, Jasper Holt, now active 
on his behalf in the East, but he had a bitter remembrance 
of th>j scare she had, perhaps unwittingly, given to him 
on the occasion of the dinner party at Hurst Royal. Even 
to Lady Egeria, whose haughty loveliness contrasted 
strongly with the Oriental beauty of the Begum, the baro- 
net could find but little to say, and still more difficult was 
it to be properly polite to the exacting Lady of the Towers. 

Once Zenobia, passing under escort of Harry Redmayne, 
tapped Sir Richard on the arm with her fan. 

“ You have never even asked me to dance ! ” she mur- 
mured, softly, but reproachfully. 

“ I cannot dance to-night. You forget that I am a 
steward, and am worked to death ! ” he answered, with a 
feeble laugh. 

Perhaps his avoidance piqued the Begum, for she certain- 
ly smiled encouragement on the heir of Old Court, on whom 
the duties of his stewardship sat very lightly indeed. 

“ That young Redmayne, any one can see, is hard hit !” 
was a remark not infrequently made by outsiders ; those 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT \ 


121 


lookers on who proverbially see most of the game. And 
it was quite true. The gay guardsman, who had waltzed 
and flirted heart-whole through successive London seasons, 
was seriously enthralled now by the Circe of Saxham Tow- 
ers. He was almost ostentatious in his attentions. He 
even, though with some trouble, persuaded the Begum to 
be his partner. 

“ I seldom dance,” she slowly lisped out, and with a 
look that spoke volumes ; “seldom, and only with my par- 
ticular friends ; but if you really wish it — ” 

Zenobia dahced well when she chose, swimming through 
the waltz in a dreamy, voluptuous style quite her own, and 
she and handsome Harry made a showier pair than any 
other there. As the music ceased, and the various couples 
moved away, the Begum again had an opportunity of 
accosting Sir Richard. 

“ I must speak to you,” she whispered ; “ I must — and 
I will. Come to me, presently, when the next dance be- 
gins. You will find me in the supper room.” 

Sir Richard could but acquiesce. He waited until the 
orchestra began once more to play and a quadrille was 
forming, and then went down to the pretty refreshment 
room, where eating, drinking, and flirtation went merrily 
on, and where, among the flowers and flags and dark-green 
shrubs, sat the magnificent Zenobia, with subjugated 
Harry .Redmayne at her side, and toying with her diamond- 
mounted fan. The baronet, with his pale, sad face, came 
slowly forward like a criminal, who awaits sentence. 

How does a woman — a clever woman of the world — 
get rid of a man ? Their sex, I suppose, confers on 
woman some instinct which enables them without offence 
to banish an admirer. Harry Redmayne did not in the 
least take umbrage when dismissed for the time being from 
his attendance on the Begum, so confidential and flattering 
was the manner of his dismissal. And then, the guards- 
ma'n having gone off with a light step, Sir Richard, whose 
heart was anything but light, took his vacant place. 

“ What have I done ? ” said the Begum, softly, swaying 
her fan to and fro. “ And why are you so changed ? 
All this evening you have avoided me.” 

This was so palpably true that the baronet was almost 
ashamed of the trivial reply, as to his labors as a steward, 
which rose to his lips. Zenobia smiled somewhat scorn- 
fully. 


122 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


“ The good folk at Wortham must be complimented, 
Sir Richard,” she replied, “ on the conscientious care 
with which you discharge the duties of your office. Let 
that rest ; more important matters have to be spoken of. 
A good deal of time has elapsed since first I asked you for 
an answer to a question plainly put and still I am waiting. 
Is it to be peace or war ? Are we enemies, Sir Richard, 
or are we to be the best and dearest of friends ? You 
have had leisure, surely, to make your mind up on that 
point. 

“ I can but wish, can but hope, always to be reckoned 
when you count your friends,” was the evasive answer. 

Zenobia’s short upper lip quivered a little, and she beat 
her foot upon the floor. “ Do not, I advise you, try my 
patience too far ! ” she whispered, angrily, but with cau- 
tion, for just then a laughing couple, fresh from the dance, 
passed close by. She waited a moment, and then resumed : 
— “ There was a promise given in India — a pledge, as you 
remember well. I still press for your answer, as to whe- 
ther you choose to keep that promise, or to break it and 
take the consequences of your perfidy. I, at least, am not 
reticent, Sir Richard.” 

“ Nor will I be so with you, Zenobia,” he replied boldly, 
and lifting, for the first time, his eyes to meet those dark, 
lustrous ones of hers. “ I should not have been silent so 
long — I should not have delayed speaking until you urged 
me to reply — but that I am — -in trouble ! ” 

He lowered his voice to whispering pitch as he pro- 
nounced the words, and now there was in his tone a ring 
of truthfulness that brought with it conviction, while the 
Begum, for the first time, noticed how haggard and thin 
was the baronet’s young face, and how sad was the look in 
his eyes. His evident unhappiness touched some hidden 
fibre of softness in her wayward heart. 

“ Poor boy — my poor Richard — you look wretched and 
ill,” she murmured, with a gentleness rare in her ; “ why 
do you not confide your trouble, whatever it may be, to 
me ? ” 

Sir Richard Harrington saw the momentary advantage 
that he had gained. His voice, when he spoke again was 
less steady than before, but more winning in its melan- 
choly persuasiveness, while he looked down as if admiring 
the flowers in the splendid bouquet that lay beside Zenobia 
where she sat. 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


123 


“ My trouble, my unhappiness,” he said, in his low, 
rich tones, “ relate to India, and have caused me much 
thought and annoyance for several weeks. It is too momen- 
tous a subject to be talked of here* at a ball ; nor, Zenobia, 
can I well bring myself to explain it until it be decided, 
one way or another, for good or for ill. Suffice it that 
r such has been the reason for my silence.” 

“ Were I your wife, to share your sorrow and your joy,” 
she whispered, as she slowly manipulated her jewelled fan 
“ would not your lot be less lonely? ” 

She bent her beautiful eyes on him with all their lustre 
as she spoke ; she was so near that he could distinguish 
the faint scent of the perfume on her raven hair ; the great 
rubies of the bracelet that clasped her rounded wrist 
flashed like red flame as she waved her feathered fan to 
and fro. Seldom had he seen her look so tempting in her 
Oriental loveliness. But he had now a talisman against 
her charms, and the old intoxicating influence of her pre- 
sence had lost its power over his senses. Yet he felt him- 
self constrained to dissemble, to juggle with words, to gain 
time at any cost. It was a part, he knew, unworthy of a 
man, and he despised himself for playing it ; yet he had no 
choice, so he deemed. Again he raised his mournful eyes 
to meet hers. 

“ How could I say what is on my heart,” he replied, 
with sad earnestness, “ weighed down as I am by this load 
of cruel cares ? If those who seek to injure me were to 
triumph, I should be a broken man. How, then, could I 
reconcile it to my honor to ask you to link your fortunes 
with those of one who may live to see his friends shrink 
from him, to bear, however unjustly, the world’s blame, 
and to wander alone, like Cain, over the earth? The 
thing would be impossible. No. I have sent a sure 
emissary out to that — to that country whence we both 
came ; and trust that I may yet be able to get the better 
of the malignity of those who would — but enough of this ! 
Give me a little more time, Zenobia, for your own dear 
sake. Be patient with me. I cannot answer now.” 
Zenobia ceased fanning herself. She bent forward, and 
touched his hand. “I will be very patient!” she mur- 
mured ; “ I did not know of this — my poor boy ! ” 

But, at that moment, up came pink-faced Lord Sparkle- 
ton, more florid than usual, in consequence of supper and 


124 


THE LADY E GERIA ; 


champagne, to claim some implied promise that the Begum 
would dance with him — “ it’s only the Lancers, you know ! 
. — and Zenobia was, perhaps, not sorry to conclude a con- 
versation that had become embarrassing to both of those 
concerned in it, and to go back to the ballroom, leaning on 
the peer’s arm. 

After this, nothing worth chronicling occurred at the 
Annual Hunt Ball at Wortham. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

IN WHICH JASPER RECIVES A VISIT. 

In a large, ill-furnished room in the bungalow at Futtehpore, 
which did duty for an inn, and was kept by an Armenian 
indifferently well versed in English requirements, Jasper 
Holt sat in the dusk of the evening, writing at a clumsy 
table of saulwood by the light of a large lamp. The 
lawyer’s face, now browned by the sun, expressed doubt 
and discontent, and, indeed, he had repented, more than 
once, of undertaking an errand which as yet seemed fruit- 
ful of little except heat and dust and flies, petty hardships, 
and unmeaning gossip. 

The bugles and trumpets at the far-off cantonment had 
sounded their evening call, and the sun had gone down, 
but even at that season there was a stifling stillness in the 
air. The hot winds that swept across the sandy plain to 
northwards had ceased to blow, but no refreshing breeze 
stole through the moistened tatties or window blinds of 
sweet-smelling grass, and only the monotonous flapping of 
the punkah kept up the slightest movement in the heavy 
and oppressive air. 

“ Yes, it was worth while coming here,” growled Jasper 
with a snort of disgust ; “ to breathe the vapors of this 
oven of a climate, to be stung by mosquitoes, poisoned by 
the cookery, and scorched by the sun, just for this. It 
seemed, at first, as if I stood to win, but now ” 

He broke off here, for at this point the waiter, a Portu- 
guese from Goa, entered to say that his worship the Kot- 
wall was without, and desired to know if he could be 
received by the sahib from England. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


I2 5 


‘Show him in,” rejoined Jasper, gruffly, and soon the 
functionary in question, half major, half commissary of 
police, came waddling and panting into the room, and 
with salaams and polite speeches, took the seat that Jasper 
somewhat ungraciously indicated to him. 

That the visitor wished to be civil was plain enough. 
He had left his slippers without, and there was a concilia- 
tory smirk on his fat face, supremely sly withal, above 
which towered aloft the green turban of a Hadji. His 
white garments were of fine quality and spotlessly clean, 
and in his crimson shawl girdle he wore a jeweled dagger 
in a sheath of embossed silver. 

“ Well, Mustapha, what is your good news ? ” demanded 
Jasper, a little hope rising in his heart, for the official’s self- 
satisfied air boded well ; “ no more put-offs, eh ? ” 

“ No, Sahib Holt,” replied smoothly, and in quite 
intelligible English, the smiling visitor, whose name was 
Mustapha Khan, and who, Hadji though he was, was the 
reverse of a fanatic ; “ this time, I think you will admit 
that you have money’s worth for your money. Since I 
saw you, I have worked, I and my police, for your sake, 
like greyhounds slipped upon an antelope. Not a pedlar 
not a chapman, not a robber rascal in the Bazaar but has 
been sifted and winnowed like grain to find out what he 
knows, since who can tell, Holt Sahib, what oyster may 
contain the pearl of truth ? ” 

Jasper was not much given to Oriental imagery. He 
shrugged up his shoulders impatiently. “ I should like,” 
he said, bluntly, “ to get something more for my rupees 
than mere lies, which are as abundant in this country as 
the gnats and the dust, friend Mustapha.” 

“ Plenty kidmut — plenty what you call fiction — about 
we may be sure, Holt Sahib ! ” said the corpulent Kot- 
wall, with a leer and a grin ; “ but at last we have found 
a clue. There are witnesses forthcoming who can vouch 
for a quarrel having taken place with violent words and 
mutual threats, between a young officer of the cavalry regi- 
ment — Barchiwallahs, as we say — Lancers is your English 
word — lately here, and another European, not in your 
Queen’s pay. That is something, Holt Sahib ! ” 

“ It would be of great importance if it did not stand 
alone, retorted Jasper. “What we want, however — my 
employer and I — is a chain of facts, all bearing on the 
same subject.” 


126 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


“ I can forge the chain link by link,” confidently replied 
the chief of the police, “ and prove that the young officer 
was the Ric Sahib Harrington, as you call him, well 
known here. Score one for that,” he added, lifting his fat 
forefinger to emphasize his meaning, “ and then go on to 
say that I can prove the other Englishman to have been a 
Feringhee named Travis, once a dependent on our lord the 
Rajah : two points here, Holt Sahib ! ” and up went a 
second finger as he spoke. 

“ I admit that, if you can furnish evidence that the alter- 
cation occurred, and with some result,” said Jasper, 
eagerly, and with brightening eyes. 

“ I have witnesses to more than I have said, Holt 
Sahib,” rejoined the smiling Kotwall ; “ witnesses who 
con show what came of the dispute, and how it ended, and 
what burden it was that lay on the Ric Sahib’s mind when 
he went back to England to claim his father’s rank and 
lands. But it is hot, still weather, and I have had a long 
walk, and a thirsty, parched feeling is in my poor throat 
and makes talking difficult.” 

Jasper must have had some experience of his friend 
Hadji’s foibles, for he promptly took the hint and rang the 
bell to give the necessary orders. The Portuguese waiter 
as promptly obeyed the summons, and brought in a tray 
with bottles and glasses. The solicitor at once filled up 
two tumblers with claret, being careful to add a glass of 
pure brandy to that destined for his Moslem guest. 

“If you insist, Holt Sahib ! ” sighed the Kotwall, “and 
since the Koran permits us to take what is good for us — • 
in the name of the Prophet, then ! ” And he tossed off the 
deep draught of forbidden liquor with the ease of a practi- 
cal toper. The effect was to make his sloe-black eyes 
dance and twinkle with satisfaction, and to loosen his 
tongue. 

“ I cannot, in my position, as you may easily imagine, 
Holt Sahib, often indulge,” said Mustapha Khan, regret- 
fully. “ Not that our lord, Amarat Rao, is a true believer 
or strict about wine as it behoves a believer to be, but ill- 
natured tongues will wag, you know, and we have some 
sour zealots at the mosque, whose ill word might have 
weight at the palace should scandal ensue. It is only 
when I visit, as now, a Feringhee gentleman like yourself 
that I permit myself to yield to temptation. What was I 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


127 


saying ? That the Rajah was an infidel dog — no, not that ! ” 
he added, in some confusion, “ but that I had to be careful 
as relates to wine. I have been to Mecca, you know, and 
have tasted the water of Zemzem, the sacred well — and 
very muddy it is, by-the-bye — and so have a reputation for 
holiness to keep up. But I weary you with my babble, 
Holt Sahib, and I feel, besides, that this visit has been a 
long one. Come to me to-morrow at my poor house, 
where I shall be proud to receive you — say two hours 
before noon, when I shall have finished with the wretches 
in court, and when there will be space to interview the 
witnesses before the noontide meal. And if you are not 
satisfied then, Holt Sahib, I will not accept a single anna, 
not so much as a pice, of the present which I know your 
munificence, and also your sense of justice, will induce you 
to offer. And now I must crave permission to take my 
leave.” 

“ I will be with you to-morrow, friend Mustapha, at the 
hour you name,” said Jasper, now quite restored to good 
humor by the prospect that he fancied he saw opening out 
before him. “ My landlord here keeps a trap that I have 
hired more than once, since 1 am not seasoned to the 
Indian sun, and I assure you I know how to be liberal 
when I feel that it is not a ‘ pig in a poke ’ that I am asked 
to buy, you understand.” 

Mustapha Khan was not well versed in English proverbs, 
nor did he probably much relish the mysterious allusion 
to the unclean animal, but he continued to smile as he rose 
salaaming to his slipperless feet. However, he accepted 
a second glass of wine dashed with brandy before he de- 
parted, and when Jasper shook hands with him something 
like the chink of golden coins resounded from within the 
KotwalTs palm, and then he went, and the Wortham soli- 
citor was left alone. 


128 


THE LAD Y E GEE LA ; 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

UNFAIR DEALINGS. 

On the morning of the day succeeding that of the Kotwall’s 
visit to the dawk bungalow, Jasper Holt arose in excellent 
health and spirits, and with more appetite for the break- 
fast lie had ordered than he had felt since his arrival in 
India. 

The meal was a copious one, and good of its kind, with 
its various curries, from bobochee to the fiery “ allblaze, ” 
compounded of the most delicate game birds and the hot- 
test condiments, its pilaff, roast quails, grain-fed mutton, 
and slices of a noble mahseer, the fish which in India does 
duty for a salmon, cooked in buttered paper, and done to 
a turn. The coffee was fragrant, and the pale ale as clear 
and sparkling as liquid amber. 

Jasper, as he finished his repast, felt as if he were fairly 
satisfied with himself and with the world. And yet lie was 
playing a base and treacherous part, if viewed from an 
impartial standpoint. It was on Sir Richard Plarrington’s 
account, ostensibly, that he was a temporary sojourner in 
India. It was the baronet’s money that he was spending, 
lavishly enough, for he had drawn again upon his titled 
employer since his arrival, and yet, as might be gathered 
from the drift of his conversation with Mustapha Khan, 
every step which he took was distinctly hostile to that 
employer’s interests. 

Some men’s consciences seem seared or blunted, and to 
this category must have belonged that of the shrewd 
lawyer from Wortham, for he still regarded the fact that 
he was in the pay of both parties and had Lady Egeria’s 
purse to pull upon for the expenses of the inquiry, as well 
as that of the luckless Sir Richard, as a most exquisite 
joke. Which way his bias went was made plain enough 
by his soliloquy, when he had stepped into the rickety 
carriage which his Armenian landlord kept for hire, and 
had set off for the town, attended by two running footmen 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


129 


in the minimum of clothing, and armed with sticks for the 
stimulation of the lean horses which were harnessed to 
that vehicle. 

“ How many years is it, I wonder, since old Sir George 
horsewhipped me for shooting a rabbit in his park? I 
was boy then, but I can remember how I ground my teeth 
and swore to be revenged one day. I think that day has 
come now : I have no cause to love the name of those 
stuck-up Harringtons.” 

Presently the creaking carriage was threading the streets 
of the dirty native town, where, as usual in the East, high 
blank walls, which shut off courtyards or gardens, alter- 
nated with rows of thatched huts or tumbledown dwellings 
built of mud and laths, and anon with some huge mansion, 
the solid stones of which defied decay, although the flat 
roof might be crumbling to ruin and the gaunt windows 
stand open to the bat and owl. At the opposite end of 
the so-called bazaar stood the house of the Kotwall, at the 
gate of which, so scon as the rumbling of wheels announced 
his approach, Jasper found the worthy magistrate await- 
ing him. 

“ I will not ask you to enter my humble abode, Holt 
Sahib, though your shadow on its walls would honor it 
much,” wheezed out Mustapha, with a bow, “ but will, 
with your permission, act as your guide at once. Just now, 
if you will leave your carriage here until your return, we 
shall stand little chance of meeting military gentlemen in 
the town.” 

Jasper assented, and the pair of confederates set out 
together on foot, followed by two peon of the Rajah’s 
police, armed with sabres and carrying long sticks with 
which in case of need to clear the way. They plunged 
into the network of narrow lanes, and soon reached a sort 
of square, in which stood conspicuous a brick-built tavern, 
over which floated the Union Jack, and which had red cur- 
tains to its glassless windows, while various inscriptions, 
such as “bar” and “ billiards,” figured on painted boards 
affixed to the walls. 

“ This is kept by a Parsee from Bombay, who knows 
English customs,” remarked the Kotwall ; “and under his 
roof occurred the quarrel between the two beringhees that 
led to so much. It is a quiet time here, and we can have 
our chat unobserved.” 


9 


130 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


And, indeed, on entering the tavern, which seemed 
deserted, no one was to be seen except the yellow capped 
proprietor, a swarthy little man, clad in black broadcloth, 
who came out from behind his jars and bottles to greet 
them with greasy civility. 

“ May you be prosperous, worshipful Kotwall ! ” he said ; 
“ servant, sir ! ” this to Jasper. “ We want a talk with 
you, Tribobjee ! ” said the Kotwall, patronizingly, and the 
landlord at once assented, and led the way past the outer 
bar, in which there stood a piano, near which the half- 
caste barmaid, dressed in tawdry finery, was asleep in an 
American rocking chair, into the long and empty billiard- 
room, littered with half-burnt ends of cheroots and dirty 
glasses and black bottles. 

“ Here we can be as quiet, gentlemen, as in the caves of 
Elephanta ! ” said the Parsee. The conversation that 
ensued was business-like and to the purpose, and was, for 
Jasper’s benefit, conducted in English. The tavern-keeper 
readily stated that he had a perfect recollection of a vehe- 
ment dispute one evening in early June, between a young 
officer of the lancer regiment in camp, and a regular 
frequenter of the establishment, whose name was Travis, 
and who was a hanger-on of the Rajah’s, though not al- 
ways an inmate of the Palace. The altercation was about 
a trifle, an alleged foul stroke at billiards, a game at which 
Mr. Travis was notoriously skillful, and his winnings at 
which were reputed to form part of his precarious income. 
Hot and bitter words and taunts had been used, and 
threats had followed, and a personal encounter had been 
prevented only by the interposition of some of the company. 
Then Mr. Travis had uttered some words amounting to a 
challenge, to which the officer, whom Tribobjee declared 
to be Lieutenant Harrington, had made an answer which 
the marker of the billiard-room had afterwards taken down 
in writing. If the Kotwall pleased, the landlord would 
bid the barmaid call her brother, the marker, and tell him 
to bring the memorandum alluded to. 

The Kotwall nodded assent, and the Tarsee left the room, 
and soon reappeared, accompanied by a shabbily-dressed 
young fellow, whose complexion of pale bronze pointed 
him out as a semi-European by descent, and who came in 
yawning and rubbing his eyes like one just awakened from 
sleep. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


* 3 * 

“ Poor Thomas cannot lie down, mostly, Master, before 
dawn,” said the Parsee, apologetically for his drowsy 
subordinate. “ Now, Thomas, you tell gentleman about 
row here between the Ric Sahib and Travis, and what you 
heard them say.” 

Thomas, the half-caste, made a statement tallying in all 
essentials with that of his employer, and exhibited a tat- 
tered memorandum book, in which Avcre pencilled the 
following remarkable words, averred to have been uttered 
by Lieutenant Harrington, in the presence of several 
persons, and addressed to Mr. Walter Travis : 

“ If you can get anything in the shape of a gentleman to 
bring your message, hang it I’m your man ! ” 

Questioned as to who, besides himself and the landlord, 
heard these words, the billiard marker shook his head. 

“ Two — three officers, but I only remember name of one 
— Mr. Graham of the Lancers. Then there was a railway 
surveyor or two, and a gentleman from Bombay, Harrison 
they call him — and the manager of a coffee plantation, up 
country — and a clerk in storekeeper’s office — yes, and old 
Sergeant Bunce of the Resident’s horse-police.” 

The landlord and the marker both expressed their per- 
fect willingness to depose formally to the truth of their 
statements before the British Resident or any other 
authority if necessary, and both manifestly expected to be 
paid for their pains, and this Jasper at once promised, 
adding a retaining fee of a couple of gold mohurs for the 
Parsee, and a ten rupee note for the Eurasian, to his 
recommendation to preserve silence until he should call 
for their evidence. 

“ Now, Holt Sahib,” said the Kotwall, triumphantly, 
when they were once more in the street, “ have you not 
had money’s worth for your money this time ? But, come 
with me, and you shall hear more.” 

They next entered a narrow and crowded street, where 
the sticks of the peons were used to drive away indis- 
criminately the swarming tawny children, the gaunt pariah 
dogs, and the roving “ bazaar ” pigs that contended with 
the snarling dogs for any offal in the rubbish heaps, and 
reached a native dwelling rather cleaner and larger than 
the hovels they had passed. 

Llere a man, decently dressed and able to converse in 
broken English, received them cringingly, offered them 


i 3 2 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


wooden stools to sit upon, and told the following story 
He, their poor servant, Govind by name, had been one of 
the personal attendants — valet, in fact, or mussaulchec — 
of the Ric Sahib, Harrington. He recollected a stranger, 
a civilian, coming to his master’s quarters in the month of 
June last, on some business not friendly. There had been 
raised voices and wrathful words. Govind could not 
understand all he overheard, but was certain that the Ric 
Sahib said, aloud : 

“ Then I’ll meet him ! ” 

The next morning, Lieutenant Graham, a brother officer, 
called very early at Harrington’s quarters. He had a 
mahogany case under his arm. It was a pistol case. Of 
that, Govind was quite sure, for he saw the case opened, 
and caught a glimpse of the weapons inside. The Ric 
Sahib called for his horse. He and Mr. Graham went 
away on horseback, their grooms or syces running beside 
them as usual. 

They went towards the jungle. Govind and the other 
servants thought it was to fight a duel with somebody, and 
were very anxious until their master came back. The Ric 
Sahib said nothing, and no inquiry, and no fuss followed. 
The syce, who had accompanied his master, had, of course, 
something to relate to the other servants when he got 
back.” 

“ But that would be hearsay evidence, and, in an Eng- 
lish court of justice, null and worthless,” said Jasper, with 
some disappointment. The Kotwall laughed. 

“ Yes, Holt Sahib; but I have got the groom here. 
Call Kashti, and let him speak for himself, Govind Singh, 
will you ? ’” 

Govind picked up a brass basin that lay near him, and 
struck it three or four times with a short, heavy club, and 
in answer to the sonorous clang an active, dusky figure, 
scantily attired in white, came in on bare and noiseless 
feet, and lifted both his outspread hands to shade his eyes, 
in token of deference. 

“ This fellow speak no English — must talk through me,” 
observed the Kotwall, and proceeded to put questions. 

Kashti, an ordinary Mahratta groom, stated, in his own 
language, that early on a certain morning in June he and 
the syce of Mr. Graham had waited with the horses on the 
edge of the forest, while the Ric Sahib and his friend en- 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*33 


tered the jungle on foot. Graham Sahib had a case in 
polished wood under his arm. 

The two officers were absent for some time, and the 
grooms thought they heard the faint report of distant fire- 
arms in the forest, but to this Ivashti declined to swear. 
The grass-cutter, with his two boys, were in the jungle at 
that very time, and in that very part of it, cutting grass for 
their master’s horses, as usual in India, and they more dis- 
tinctly heard the shots. Curiosity had made the father 
creep through the bushes, and he declared afterwards that 
he had seen his master, the Ric Sahib, with a pistol in his 
hand, and had heard voices loud and eager. Then the 
timid creature’s dread of the consequences to himself, 
should he be caught prying, had caused him to slink off 
unnoticed. He had told his sons, however, what had hap- 
pened, and they, in their boyish inquisitiveness, and con- 
trary to their father’s wish, had stolen through the bush 
and seen their employer, Ric Sahib, with one or two other 
Feringhees, clustered round a prostrate figure on the 
ground. Then they, too, had been terrified into flight, and 
it was not until after Lieutenant Harrington had ceased to 
be their master, and had left the country, that they had 
ventured to tell what they knew. 

11 Hearsay evidence, this, anyhow ! ” grumbled Jasper. 

But the Kotwall was equal to the occasion. He nodded 
to the groom, who at once turned towards the mat that 
hung across an inner doorway, and gave a long sibilant 
hiss like that of a serpent. Instantly there shambled into 
the room a scantily-clothed figure, nearly black, and with a 
strip of red rag twisted around his shaggy head, followed 
by another form, that of a barefooted lad, whose wild eyes 
peered forth from amidst the unkempt hair that hung over 
his low brow and dark face. These two new-comers had 
an abject air quite different from the deferential bearing of 
the Hindoos. 

“ That dog,” said Mustapha Khan, contemptuously in- 
dicating the elder of the two, “was grass-cutter to the Ric 
Sahib. His name, which it defiles my lips to utter, is Puli 
Vang. He knows some Hindustani, but not much. 
Luckily I can talk his unblessed jargon, not fit for a re- 
spectable man — a Bhula Admee — like myself.” 

Questioned roughly in his own dialect, the humble grass- 
cutter told his tale, which was translated for Jasper’s bene- 


*34 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


fit. The Pariah lad, his son, whose name was Kishi, was 
next interrogated, and his statement, like his father’s, 
agreed precisely with the version given by the Hindoo syce. 
1 1 is brother, who had also seen the Ric Sahib, was dead, 
he said, a month or more ago, of snake bite — a fact which 
the young barbarian mentioned with the utmost unconcern. 

“These apes of the woods often die thus,” remarked the 
Kotwall, coolly. “ However, in your European courts, the 
oath of a Pariah is weighed with that of a Brahmin, so it is 
well to have these curs at call. Throw a few rupees on the 
ground for them, Holt Sahib, and let them go for the 
moment.” 

Jasper complied, and with muttered thanks the scattered 
coins were greedily snatched from the earthen floor by the 
man and the lad, who then shambled hastily away. Then 
the syce and the ex-valet received their fees, more civilly 
tendered, and next the Kotwall set off to guide Jasper Holt 
to the detached cottage in the outskirts where dwelt Ser- 
geant Bunce. 

The sergeant, a tough veteran whom forty years of In- 
dian sunshine had bronzed to copper color, and whose 
moustache was as white as snow, gave brief and soldierly 
evidence. 

“ I served Her Majesty,” he said, “ many years before I 
came to command those blue Sowars of the Resident’s 
here, and I respect the army. But some of these young 
officer chaps do carry on in a way that makes a fellow’s 
blood boil, and I consider Mr. Travis, who was a decentish 
sort, had very great provocation, and Ric Sahib, as they 
call him, was as much in the wrong as ever I knew a high 
and mighty young chap to be. There was talk that meant 
a duel, if no worse ; and as for Mr. Harrington, I remem- 
ber his words well enough, and would swear to them.” 

The words, when repeated, turned out to be identical 
with those noted down by the billiard marker, and Sergeant 
Bunce, too, pocketed a gold mohur in return for the infor- 
mation given. Then came the return to the Kotwall’s 
house, and before Jasper stepped into his carriage, Mus- 
tapha Khan was remunerated on a scale that satisfied even 
him. 

“ I shall start for Delhi at once,” said Jasper, decisively. 
“ I think I shall be able to prove, not a bona-fide duel, but 
a rascally murder under color of an affair of honor; but 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*35 


first I must put pressure on this Lieutenant Graham, to 
induce him to confess his share in it, as an accomplice 
before the fact.” 

It never occurred to the Wortham lawyer, as he returned 
in his carriage to the inn to prepare for his journey, that 
he was himself a traitor, double-dyed, or that his dealings 
with his unhappy principal in England were, to say the 
least of it, false and perfidious. Flushed with success and 
hope, he scarcely paused to meditate on the morality of 
what he did. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

ON THE TRACK. 

The railways, a boon to pilgrims everywhere, are doubly 
so in India. Thanks to the geni of steam, Jasper Holt 
arrived in Delhi expeditiously enough, and without a tithe 
of the toil and cost which were exacted by the old plodding 
journey in palankins. 

The Wortham lawyer was neither a sight-seer nor an 
archaeologist, and cared as little for mosque and palace 
built by Mogul emperors in the palmy days of the Moham- 
medan Raj as for the modern glories of that splendid 
street, the Chandni Chonk, crowded with such costumes 
as are to be met with nowhere else in the Peninsula. His 
business was with the young officer who, there was every 
reason to believe, had been Sir Richard Harrington’s second 
in the untoward affray, dignified by the name of a duel, 
which had taken place in the jungle near Futtehpore. 

“ Once let me see him face to face, and if I don’t wring 
the truth out of him, I wasn’t christened Jasper, that’s 
all/’ said the solicitor to himself, more than once, confident 
in his own powers of brow-beating or cajoling an unwilling 
witness. And then there was a potent engine of coercion 
ready to hand, in the shape of a threat, easily executed, to 
complain to the military authorities. Should the colonel 
be lenient, and the local commander-in-chief turn a deaf 
ear, there remained in reserve the Horse Guards, nervously 
sensitive to newspaper criticism, and unsparing whenever 
so small a sacrifice as that of a subaltern had to be made 
for the sake of peace and quiet. 


136 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


But at Delhi Jasper Holt found a disappointment 
awaiting him. On reaching the quarters of the Lancer 
regiment, lately at Futtehpore, he was informed that Lieu- 
tenant Graham had been buried, with the usual military 
honors, but three days since, and that his effects, according 
to custom, had been sold by auction. 

It was fever, the great scourge of India, and which lays 
low triple the number of victims who succumb to cholera, 
that had proved fatal to Sir Richard's former brother offi- 
cer, who was now beyond the reach of all the pressure, 
legal and official, that Jasper could have brought to bear 
upon him. 

Still, like a staunch bloodhound, tenacious in its quest 
of the destined prey, Jasper did not permit himself to be 
discouraged. With the auctioneer’s help, he found out the 
names and addresses of the few purchasers of the late lieu- 
tenant’s goods and chattels, and had, on cunningly con- 
nived pretexts, an interview with each of them, but without 
eliciting anything that could further the progress of the 
inquiry that he was conducting, at the expense., and for the 
ruin, of his too confident client. 

“ Look here, old chap ! ” said, at last, one vacuous and 
good-natured youngster, in foraging cap and gold-laced 
overalls, whom he found at the auspicious moment of im- 
bibing a second foaming beaker of soda water and brandy, 
“ any rubbish like books and papers, and so forth, would 
have been left out of the catalogue, as not worth knocking 
down to anyone, and so his servants — the black fellows, I 
mean — have either kept them or thrown them away. If 
they were kept, you’ll get them for a rupee, don’t you 
know ? ” 

Jasper Holt took the hint, and with the aid of an English- 
speaking tout from his hotel, he diligently hunted up the 
ex-servants of the deceased officer. Money, as has often 
been remarked, will do almost anything with a native, and 
by the expenditure of some loose silver Jasper contrived 
to purchase several books, a battered writing-case, and 
other articles that had belonged to the late subaltern of 
Lancers. 

The writing case contained, besides bills and letters, a 
thin flat book, inscribed externally, “ Diary,” while just 
within the binding was written the name of its owner, 
“ Alexander Cochrane Graham.” 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


r 37 


The Wortham lawyer pounced upon this manuscript 
volume with the avidity with which a painstaking historian 
would unfold the pages of a newly-discovered chronicle. 
The entries were, as might have been expected, of a trivial 
character, for the most part, and wholly irrelevant to the 
purpose of the seeker; but presently Jasper felt that his 
studious pertinacity was rewarded, as his eyes lit on the 
following paragraph, — 

“ Futtehpore, June nth. — Was second to H. of Ours in 
his affair with poor Travis. Quite cut up about it. A 
blackguard business, for H. certainly did fire before the 
other expected it. Hushed up, but I have registered a 
vow never again to be concerned, as principal or second, 
in a confounded thing like that. Bad enough in any case, 
but this was sheer foul play, though I was weak enough to 
hold my tongue, more for the credit of the regiment than 
for H.’s sake, since he behaved shamefully from the first 
outset of the quarrel with Travis. — A. C. G., — th Lancers. ” 

“ It seems to me,” observed Jasper, complacently, “as 
if my case was very nearly perfect now. This is even bet- 
ter than I thought. The writer of the diary has done me 
a good turn without intending it, and our mutual acquain- 
tance at Greystone, by packing me off to India, has run 
his neck into a noose, if ever baronet did so. Let us see 
if the book contains any more confessions.” 

But the diary, though scanned with jealous care, did not 
prove to contain another of those damaging entries. 
There was vague mention of duns and debts, of sporting 
expeditions, bets on races or pigeon shooting, of balls and 
moonlight picnics, and ever and anon some memoranda of 
another sort, such as, “Wrote to my mother and sisters,” 
“ Another letter from dear Alice, with hair” — that showed 
some feeling for those far away. But that was all. 

Armed with this piece of mute evidence, and with every 
prospect of securing the formal depositions of the living 
witnesses, Jasper Holt was sure that he should have A 
strong case against Sir Richard Harrington. That he 
should exult, as he did, in the anticipated downfall of a 
client who had trusted in him, was due, probably, to a 
mixture of motives hard to analyze. His old grudge against 
Sir Creorge had perhaps kept up a smouldering enmity to 
the Harringtons which had been fanned into flame by his 
passion for Mavina and her strong suspicions against the 


138 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


baronet. The episode of the ruby ring, and Sir Richard’s 
singular behavior on the occasion of the dinner party at 
Hurst Royal, had been repeatedly discussed by Miss Mal- 
stock and the enamored lawyer, and seemed impossible to 
explain away. He, Jasper, did really feel sure that in 
being instrumental in bringing a criminal to justice, he was 
doing a good work, and his nature was not sensitive enough 
te revolt at the breach of good faith of which he was 
guilty. On the contrary, he still chuckled mirthfully when 
he reflected that the owner of Greystone Abbey had himself 
supplied the funds that were now being used to effect his 
ruin, and suggested the journey that was to prove fatal to 
him. 

“I won’t let grass grow under my feet,” said Jasper to 
himself, as he took his seat in the railway carriage to leave 
Delhi for the south, and shall book my passage, if I can, 
by the Scrapis , which is advertised to sail, I see, on the 
1 8th of the month. But now to work up this Futtehpore 
evidence to the best advantage.” 

He thought the matter out, step by step, in his own 
mind, and then, pillowing his head on his folded railway 
rug, sank into a quiet slumber. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

JASPER THINKS HIS EVIDENCE IS COMPLETE. 

Once back at Futtehpore, and again installed in the rooms 
that he had previously occupied at the inn, Jasper’s first 
care was to communicate with his ally, the Kotwall, who 
had promised not to be slack during his absence in carrying 
on the inquiry. And in return for the card, which was 
despatched by special messenger, the Wortham solicitor 
received within the space of a few hours the following 
note, in a cramped handwriting, but fairly legible, consid- 
ering it was traced with a reed pen and in a foreign 
tongue by an Oriental accustomed to write from right to 
left only : 

“ Honored Sir and Sahib, — Your poor and faithful servitor has 
done his best, since the light of your presence has been withdrawn 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


139 


from us, to carry out your respected wishes. And by the blessing of 
the Prophet, this attempt has been crowned with success, and a new 
fountain of information has been unsealed, a source at which to slake 
your excellent thirst for truth concerning the grand business to which 
we owe your auspicious visit to India. To explain the purport of this 
within the narrow limits of this insignificant letter would be a task com- 
parable to that of transcribing the Koran— may it be ever deemed holy J 
in the compass of a nutshell or a datestone, but if I may have the hap- 
piness of being received by you at sunset this evening, I will bring with 
nie a man who has that to tell which will enable you to set your foot, 
Holt Sahib, upon the neck of your enemy. In the meantime, I pray 
that your shadow may remain unaltered for many years, and that the 
measure of your prosperity may be, as our Persian proverb says, by the 
maund and not by the miscal. 

“ The Kotwall of Futtehpore, 

Mustapha Khan.” 


“ This means,” said Jasper to himself, after a moment’s 
thought, “ that my Mahometan colleague feels a hankering 
for forbidden liquor, and desires me to stand treat, as 
before. Let that pass. The news he brings, if he do but 
make good his written pledge, would excuse his indul- 
gence in a Red Sea of wine and brandy. A sharp fellow, 
this Mustapha, and would scarcely promise what he could 
not perform.” 

And Jasper sent back a civil note to the effect that he 
should await, after tatoo, the pleasure of a call from the 
Kotwall. 

At the appointed hour the Kotwall arrived ; this time 
mounted on a sturdy white pony, equipped with crimson 
saddle and embroidered housings, and having its mane 
and tail tinged with henna. He was escorted by four 
peons of the police under his orders, carrying lanterns and 
clubs, as well as the short curved tulwars that hung, by a 
red cord, at their backs, and accompanied by a native 
clad in simple white, and who, by his appearance, was 
clearly a Hindoo artisan or mechanic. 

Mustapha left, naturally, his suite and his horse outside, 
but brought with him into the room the white garmented 
Hindoo, who moved with reluctant slowness, and trembled 
visibly when brought into the presence of a strange 
European. 

“Approach, Lashgar Vi, and fear nothing!” said the 
Kotwall, encouragingly, in Hindustani. “ Those who do 
my bidding, unless indeed they speak with a forked 


140 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


tongue, are safe with me, and may bask in the sunshine of 
my protection.” 

“ Is this the person — the new witness, as I suppose — 
mentioned in your letter, friend Mustapha ? ” demanded 
Jasper. 

“ He is,” answered the Kotwall, as he settled himself 
among the cushions of a bamboo easy chair, “ and a fish 
worth the netting. He is one of my sheep, you must 
know — out of gaol, I mean,” he added, seeing that he was 
not understood. 

“ Sorry for that !” said Jasper, shaking his head. “It 
does so discredit the evidence, Mr. Kotwall.” 

Mustapha Khan smiled. “ The source may be muddy, but 
the draught is good for thirsty lips,” he said, figuratively. 
“ If this man had not been under my thumb, behind the 
bars, I should not have been able, to worm out of him 
what he knew, and of which a hint reached me from the 
spies we are obliged to keep among the prisoners. He is 
a coward, as you see, for he shakes like a dried palm leaf 
in the blast of the monsoon wind. But he is no regular 
thief — though he stole a silver lamp from a Baboo’s house, 
where he was at work as a carpenter — and his character is 
not so bad that he cannot be believed on oath. I have 
promised him a remission of his sentence if he gives the 
evidence we want. Now, Lashgar Vi ! ” he added, changing 
his speech from English to the vernacular, “ speak 
out, and do your utmost to satisfy this gentleman, and 
you may yet sleep beneath the chupper roof of your own 
thatched hut before the Festival of Siva comes round.” 

Thus stimulated, Lashgar Vi, timidly but intelligibly, 
told his story, which of course was translated by the Kot- 
wall, and committed to paper by Jasper Holt. He was, 
he said, a carpenter, often employed by Europeans. Had 
worked for Mr. Travis, for whom, in particular, he made a 
camphor trunk or chest, such as is often needed on 
account of white ants and moths, to order. There had 
been a mistake about the price, and some demur about 
payment, but he had found Mr. Travis very good-natured 
and gentle ; more so than some of the fine Sahibs. Had 
also repaired furniture for Captain Harrington, the elder 
brother, and had repeatedly seen, at his quarters, the 
younger, known as the Ric Sahib, who spoke Hindustani 
so fluently. Remembered the great epidemic of cholera. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


141 


It caused much work— coffin making. He, Lashgar 'Vi, 
was called suddenly one night to bring a wooden coffin to 
the bungalow of Captain Harrington. The servants were 
frightened, and he had helped to place the body in the 
coffin, and had thus forfeited his caste, and had to pay forty 
rupees and more to the priests in the temple to be purified, 
and to make a pilgrimage to Benares. Would have 
petitioned the Ric Sahib to have made up the loss of 
money and time to him, since it was in his service that he 
had defiled himself by touching a corpse, but he had left 
the country. 

“ This is not all, I hope, he has to tell ! ” remarked 
Jasper, impatiently. 

The Kotwall answered by a negative shake of the head. 

The carpenter went on, and that in a manner that at 
once riveted the earnest attention of the Wortham lawyer. 
The body, he said, which he helped to place in the wooden 
coffin, was, though clad in military uniform, not that of Sir 
Lionel Harrington. It was that of Walter Travis. Of the 
truth of which statement Lashgar Vi was as positive as of 
his own earthly existence. 

Questioned, and Jasper, who now grew excited, plied 
him with questions, Lashgar Vi persisted doggedly in his 
almost incredible assertion. He knew the two Feringhees 
quite well, as he knew the moon from the sun. It was 
the body of his old customer and patron, Travis, not that 
of young Sir Lionel, that he had laid within the wooden 
shell made by his own hands. Of that he was quite sure. 

Asked if he could account for the substitution of one 
corpse for another, lie had nothing to suggest. Still, the 
fact was so. He had not seen Mr. Travis for some weeks 
before the night he saw him dead. The two young men, 
in height and in the color of their hair, were somewhat 
alike, but yet there was no mistake. It was the lifeless 
form of Walter Travis, not that of Sir Lionel, that the Ric 
Sahib had caused to be borne home and enclosed in a 
coffin. 

“ Then,” said Jasper, bringing his hand down upon the 
table with a sounding slap — u then the bringing to En- 
gland of young Sir Lionel’s remains, and the fine funeral in 
the church at Greystone, were all a solemn comedy to 
throw dust in people’s eyes, and conceal a crime that we 
shall soon be in a position to prove. If ever there was a 
case of murder, this is one.” 


142 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


So thought the Kotwall. Then Lashgar Vi, trembling, 
signed his written statement and was sent outside under 
guard of a peon of the escort, there to wait while Mustapha 
received thanks and praise from his European friend, and 
ended the interview by swallowing, as before, potations 
pottle deep of the choicest vintage in the cellar of the 
Armenian innkeeper, after which, making an appointment 
for the morrow, he took a ceremonious leave. 

The two next days were spent in collecting the wit- 
nesses and in getting their depositions, in Hindustani and 
in English, formally taken in the presence of the so-called 
“ Chota Sahib,” or Resident’s secretary, Mr. Ford, and 
officially attested by Colonel Tierney, the Resident. 
Then the witnesses received largesse for their trouble, and 
Mustapha, the Kotwall, was remunerated with a liberality 
which sprang not only from the fact that Jasper was in 
high good humor, but that he knew also that Lady Egeria’s 
promise to Mavina to pay expenses would be scrupulously 
kept. 

Then, with his valuable documentary evidence under 
lock and key, Jasper Holt journeyed from Futtehpore to 
Bombay, and when the Serapis P. and O. steamer sailed 
out of harbor, he was among her passengers, hurrying 
back to England on his mission of ruin and disgrace. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A MISUNDERSTANDING. 

A gloomy day at the Towers. It was about a fortnight 
since the Serapis , homeward bound from India, had 
passed Aden and steamed into the Red Sea, bearing with 
her Jasper Holt and his hoarded budget of accusatory 
evidence, and already the early touch of winter and the 
appearance of snow were beginning to modify the charac- 
ter of our English landscapes. 

Zenobia looking forth from her window over the deso- 
late garden and the leafless trees, shuddered, in spite of the 
fact that she was surrounded by every luxury and appli- 
ance that wealth could buy, and eyed the darkling scene 
without in a sort of dismay. She was wrapped in a large 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


143 


Indian shawl of green and gold, and a great fire of blazing 
wood was crackling and glowing on the hearth, while heavy 
curtains screened the doors of the drawing-room, and in 
the halls and corridors of the old mansion huge stoves 
kept up a supply of heated air ; yet the mistress of Sax- 
ham Towers seemed to suffer from the cold, and her face 
wore an expression of almost sullen discontent. 

The sound of wheels upon the crisp gravel without 
attracted Zenobia’s attention, and was followed by the 
clang of the door bell. 

“ He has brought his answer, I suppose. It was like 
him to select such a day,” she said, wearily. It was of 
Sir Richard Harrington and his promised visit that she 
thought, and that the subject was one that had grown dis- 
tasteful or uninteresting to her capricious mind was evi- 
dent from her look and tone. She brightened up, how- 
ever, when her Oriental attendant glided in to announce 
Captain Redmayne. 

Hospitality is yet among 'the cardinal virtues of that 
part of the North Country, and the Begum had, since the 
Hunt Ball, been a guest at many houses, at all of which 
the young guardsman had been the most attentive 
cavalier. She smiled now to see him, for this was the first 
time that he had paid a visit alone to the Towers ; but 
her womanly quickness of perception soon showed her 
that his face now wore an expression of seriousness, that 
was unusual, and that there was something of constraint 
in his manner that, to her fancy, augured ill. 

Zenobia’s spirits, suddenly reviving, were as abruptly 
depressed. Conscience — or in her case it might be more 
just to say imagination — made her prepare instantly to 
stand on the defensive. She thought that the future squire 
of Old Court had heard something either against her or 
her introducer, Sir Richard, and had come to tax her with 
dissimulation, or to ask her frankly if the flying rumor 
reposed on any solid basis of fact. Somehow, she winced 
at the idea of forfeiting the good opinion of this young 
man, more than she would have done had her social 
sponsors, the marquess and his high-bred daughter, turned 
their august backs upon her. The hand which she gave 
him was cold and not quite steady. Yet, as usual, the 
first remarks made were about the weather. 

u How cold it is, and how dark ! ” said Zenobia. “ I 


144 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


am afraid to order out my carriage, and stay shivering at 
home. I never till now quite realized your terrible British 
winters. Do you know, Captain Redmayne, that, except 
at a distance in the hills, I never saw snow before to-day.” 

Harry Redmayne made some trivial reply. He, too, 
observed a certain change in the Begum’s manner, and was 
at a loss to account for it. And then there was a long and 
awkward pause. 

“ I have not come here to-day, Mrs. Stone,” said Harry, 
desperately, for he felt constrained to break the painful 
silence, “ merely to pay a morning call. What I have to 
say has cost me many an anxious moment and sleepless 
night ; yet I must say it.” 

The Begum bent her head assentingly. Her heart beat 
as it had rarely beaten, in quick, irregular throbs. Her 
lips smiled, but she was far from being at ease. It could 
not, she thought, be that the guardsman had heard a 
report detrimental to her friend Sir Richard. Some 
inconvenient truth must have come to light as to her 
dubious parentage, her shady antecedents, or the queer 
origin of her husband’s wealth. To lose some part of her 
borrowed plumage would be a bitter mortification ; to be 
stripped of all would be a death blow to her vanity. She 
grew pale, and shuddered afresh, as she drew the folds of 
the shawl closer to her shapely shoulders. 

“ I have come to say, Zenobia, that 1 love you better 
than my life — that all my hopes are centred in you,” broke 
out the young man passionately, “ and that, although I 
feel that I am not worthy of you — not clever, not particu- 
larly rich, and certainly not famous — I look forward to the 
hope of winning your dear love as never man yet did since 
the world was a world.” 

She turned her face away, as if to hide her blushes, but 
in truth she was confused, and nearer to hysterics than she 
had ever been before. What a revulsion of sentiment 1 
Here was this young man, handsome, well-bred, of old 
family and high degree, on his knees as her suitor, just 
when she expected to be questioned as to her mother the 
dancing girl, or asked whether the late Caleb Stone had 
really been the slave-dealing scoundrel that he was reputed 
to be. 

She heard Harry Redmayne’s voice still speaking, with- 
out being able to distinguish the words he uttered, and for 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


l 45 


a few moments felt almost as if absorbed in a happy 
dream. Then she remembered herself and Sir Richard 
and her previous entanglement, and with a sigh she 
prepared to awaken from the happy dream. 

“ Captain Redmayne,” she said, gently, turning her 
Cleopatra-like face towards his eager one, “you have 
surprised me — startled me — very much. It is, I know, a 
great compliment that you have paid me — the greatest in 
your power — and I thank you, but I must say no.” 

“But why ‘no’?” asked Harry, whose countenance 
grew suddenly sad ; “ unless, indeed,” he added, with, a 
searching look, “ I am too late, and some other fellow, who 
may not be half so true as I am, has won your affections 
already.” 

This time Zenobia blushed as a girl might have done. 

“ Certainly not,” she replied ; and then again her color 
rose and fell, perhaps because of the falseness of her 
words, but so that in the guardsman’s eyes she looked 
more bewitching than ever. She went on to tell him, in 
her rich, low voice, that it would be better, far better, for 
him to forget what he had just said : to think of her no 
more. 

“ I am older than you, you know, Harry,” she said, 
lisping his name for the first time with a pretty timidity 
that belied her warning speech, “ and am, besides, so new 
to English ways, that your own family might look askance 
at the idea of receiving me amongst them as your wife. 
And I am not sure that I could bear to live on in this cold 
England. I feel sometimes as if I should perish, like 
some bird from the tropics that cannot but die here of 
frost and hunger. And you have known me for only a few 
weeks. Better forget me, or only think of Zenobia as a 
well-wisher and a friend.” 

Then handsome Harry pleaded his cause with an energy 
and a command of words that surprised himself. He told 
her that this was no passing fancy. It was the heartfelt 
devotion of a life, a love that could come to no man more 
than once in his career. His hopes would be blighted, his 
spirit broken, if she continued to be cruel. He would not, 
he said, accept his dismissal so easily. The matter was 
one of great moment to him, because he loved her so 
dearly. 

Zenobia was troubled and stirred to the very depths of 

10 


146 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


her nature ; all but frightened, too, at the fire and earnest- 
ness with which this young man spoke. She was used to 
young men and their lip service and compliments, and had 
been a sad flirt in her day. But never had she been 
addressed — most surely not by Sir Richard, whom she had 
entrapped into a declaration — in such burning words of 
sincere wooing as she had hearkened to that day. 

It might have been better — it would, undoubtedly, have 
been more honest — had the lady of Saxham Towers said 
“ yes ” to her enamored swain. Perhaps she might, had 
not the worldliness that was inherent in her reminded her 
of Greystone Abbey and the great estates and great rent- 
roll, and all the mineral wealth underground as well as the 
broad acres cf the Harrington property. Old Court was 
but a minor inheritance ; the Redmaynes, though so 
ancient a race, an untitled family. Personally, she very 
much preferred the gallant guardsman to the baronet, for 
whose sake she had migrated to England ; but she could 
not bear quite to renounce the notion of being Lady 
Harrington. But if she was not frank enough with her 
admirer to answer according to the promptings of all that 
was womanly in her heart, at least she ceased to say him 
‘ nay ’ as positively as before. 

“ I must have time to think of this,” said Zenobia, in her 
turn craving for delay. “Your kindness, Captain Red- 
mayne, was so unexpected, and has come so suddenly 
upon me, that I cannot, ought not, to be pressed to reply 
to-day — unless I am to adhere to my first ‘ no ! ’ ” she 
added, half playfully, as her beautiful eyes swam in tears 
not wholly discreditable to her. 

Of course, Harry Redmayne was in raptures. He had 
hope in his heart. He knelt and kissed her soft hand. 
She chid him gently, and bade him leave her now, and let 
her have time to think what would be the best and wisest 
for both. She was more than half in love with him herself, 
and this lent a new charm to her bright, dark eyes, a new 
witchery to her sweet, low voice. To fascinated Harry she 
appeared faultless as an angel ; far too good for him, as he 
in his simplicity opined. As he drove back in his dogcart 
that day from Saxham Towers to Old Court he was full of 
hope and confidence and admiration for the strangely- 
chosen object of his affections. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


H7 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

mavina’s stratagem. 

Shortly after Harry Redmayne’s visit to the lady of 
Saxham Towers, Mavina Malstock, calling at the Wortham 
Post Office for letters, as it was still her custom to do, 
received one, bearing the London postmark, and which ran 
thus : — 


“Dear Miss Mavina, — I have news for you which in one sense 
will be distressing and sad to you ; still, I know that you will prefer to 
have your painful doubts removed ; and I can only add that I fear — 
nay, I may say that I can with certainty affirm — that } r our worst sus- 
picions are fully confirmed. There is now no doubt on the subject, 
Walter Travis was most foully murdered in India. I have patiently 
traced out every detail of the evidence, and have brought the proofs 
back with me to London. I think you can guess at whose door the 
guilt may be laid. 

“ Your presence, Miss Mavina, w ill be required, to give evidence as 
to the ruby ring you saw, and other suspicious circumstances. Have 
you any means of taking a trip to London — any friends to whom you 
could go there, and remain for a week or so, until the case for an 
official inquiry is settled ? I must, however, caution you most urgently 
not in any manner to reveal the reason for your going to London, or 
even that you have heard from me. 

“ This is most important. 

“ But with your ready wit and cleverness, you will, I know, have 
but little difficulty in framing a plausible excuse for your journey to 
London ; and if you can only find some relation or friend there to 
receive you, all will be well, and our chain of evidence will be, I think, 
complete. I write my address below, and will only add, come quickly , 
and let nothing tempt you to mention that you have heard from me, 
or one word of what I have communicated. I know that I can trust 
you in this, and I remain as ever, 

“ Dear Miss Mavina, 

“Your faithful and devoted friend and admirer, 

“Jasper Holt. 

“ W — Hotel , Strand , London .” 


As she perused this letter, Mavina’s eyes flashed more 
than once, and her lips tightened ominously ; signs of 
anger, not of grief, at this confirmation of what she had 


148 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


long suspected. The girl had mourned in secret for her 
lost lover during weary weeks and months, but from the 
first she had cherished but faint hopes that Walter Travis 
might yet be numbered among the living. Now there 
could be no sort of doubt. He was dead ; he had died a 
violent death in that far-off land of India, and all that 
remained was to help in hunting down his murderer. 

To some feminine minds such a task might have been 
uncongenial, even then. But Mavina was a good hater, 
and the prospect of vengeance was as dear to her as it is 
to some squaw of a Red Indian tribe mindful of slain 
kindred. 

“ He shall pay for this ! ” she murmured, with a vindic- 
tive glance in the direction of Greystone Abbey ; and then 
she thrust Jasper’s missive into her pocket, and went 
demurely home. 

That Miss Malstock made no mention, in the domestic 
circle, of Mr. Holt or his tidings may readily be guessed. 
Nor was she at a loss how to act so as to comply with the 
summons she had received. Her first care was, on reach- 
ing her own room, to seize her pen and indite a letter, 
which she presently went out to post with her own hands, 
addressed to a certain Miss Crockford, of Cambridge 
Terrace, London, a former schoolfellow, on whose discre- 
tion and friendship she thought she could rely. 

She was not mistaken, for on the morning of the second 
day, as the Malstock family were at breakfast, the post- 
man’s familiar knock was heard, and the maid brought in 
a London letter, “ for Miss Mavina, please ” — a letter 
which that artless young person at once proceeded to open. 

The contents, which Mavina dutifully communicated to 
her parents, were as follows : — 

“My Dearest Mavina, — You must have thought something had 
happened to me, it seems such ages since I wrote, but somehow I fear 
we London people are very bad correspondents. There are so many 
calls on our attention, and we are always putting off ; waiting till to- 
morrow. However, dear, I have not forgotten you, nor our happy 
days at Cavendish House, and I am writing now, with mamma’s full 
concurrence, to ask you to spare us a week or two at least, and come 
and visit us here. Laura is staying at our aunt’s in Dorsetshire, so you 
can have her room, and as there is always plenty going on, we would 
try to make your stay with us pleasant. 

“ Ask Dr. and Mrs. Malstock, with mamma’s compliments, if they 
will kindly let you come to us, and quickly — say to-morrow if you can 


OR , BROUGHT' TO LIGHT. 


149 


manage it — I mean the day after you get this — as there is a nice party 
coming off, and I should love to have you with us. You will find your 
room ready, and a hearty welcome. As I hope that we may so soon 
be together again, to chat over old times, I will not add more at present, 
but remain as ever, 

“Dearest Mavina, 

“ Your very affectionate friend, 

“Jemima Crockford. 

u Cambridge Terrace , London.” 

This letter, duly read aloud in family conclave, was 
surely such as might well be written by an amiable young 
lady to the companion of her school days. What, how- 
ever, Mavina preferred to keep to herself was a sly little 
postscript, lurking like a snake in the grass, beneath the 
seal, and which was as follows : — 

“ Dearest Mavina, — I have had your urgent letter, and I hasten to 
comply with your request, so I send by return the invitation as you 
wish. Mind you come. Is it somebody you want to meet ? I am 
dying to know. 

“ Your attached, 

“Jemmie.” 

This letter, luckily arriving before the doctor had sallied 
forth on his rounds, caused some debate in the family 
council — a debate in which Mavina’s part was a negative 
one, since she had only to sit passive and wistful while the 
discussion went on. Mrs. Malstock — mothers always 
incline to indulgence in such cases — was eager for her girl 
to get a holiday in London. The worthy surgeon was of 
an opposite opinion. 

“ Unless we find a gold mine in the garden,” he said, in 
his quaint way, “ I don’t know, my dear, how Mavina is to 
manage this new piece of extravagance that you two seem 
to be bent upon. Journeys cost money; so do smart 
clothes and fallals and nonsense ; and just now, too, when 
Christmas bills are coming in as thick as berries on the 
holly trees, I really don’t see how I can be expected to 
stand a fresh pull upon my purse — not a very full one, you 
remember.” 

“ I am sure,” faltered Mavina, looking at the tablecloth 
■ — “ that if papa thinks it would be wrong — ” 

Here Mrs. Malstock came to the rescue. 

“ Why, Robert,” she said, with unusual energy for her, 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


150 

“ I am sure you would be the first to regret it if Mavina 
were to lose this treat, which might, you know, be so 
advantageous to her in after life. She sees no one here, 
shut up at Wortham, and I should not like the dear, 
patient child to be deprived of this opportunity of getting a 
glimpse of London gaieties. The expense would really 
be nothing — traveling is so quick now.” 

“ Yes,” answered the doctor, grimly “ no question now, 
as when I was a boy, of two days and a night, with freezing 
feet and coat collar turned up because of the pelting snow 
and hail, miserably spent on the roof of a coach, before 
London was reached; or of riding there on horseback, 
with pistols in readiness, as my grandfather used to do. 
But if I concede the railway tickets, that won’t be all. I 
shall be told next that Mavina wants an outfit, just as if 
she were going to Australia.” 

Mrs. Malstock, who saw that the victory was as good as 
won, did not draw the string unduly tight. She- pointed 
out that Mavina’s having been, thanks to Lady Egeria 
Fitzurse, present at sundry of the county gatherings that 
year, was fully equipped, so far as dresses went, for a short 
London campaign. 

“ A little pocket money, of course, the child ought to 
have, in case of wanting something,” she pleaded ; “ these 
Crockfords are well off, you know, and go out a good deal, 
but a trifle would make all the difference.” 

“That depends on what you call a trifle,” said the 
doctor, good humoredly. 

However, it was agreed before Dr. Malstock set out in 
his gig to see his outlying patients, firstly, that the 
invitation should be accepted; secondly, that Mavina 
should go up to town on the morrow, since her schoolfellow 
seemed so impatient for her coming ; and, thirdly, that so 
far as five golden sovereigns went, she should not be with- 
out means of providing what she might require in London. 

Kind, motherly Mrs. Malstock seemed quite rejuvenated 
at the prospect of the pleasant little surprise that had 
befallen her daughter. She helped Mavina to pack, 
and hunted out from their resting places some queer 
old trinkets that she called her jewels, and which she had 
worn in her own girlhood, and before she bestowed her 
hand' and the income of her modest fortune — it was but a 
poor two thousand pounds, strictly tied up for her child’s 
ultimate benefit— on honest Robert Malstock, M.R.C.S. 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


* 5 * 

There was something almost touching in the pride 
with which Mrs. Malstock drew forth from their wrappings 
of cotton wool and silver paper those antiquated orna- 
ments — the pearls yellowed by age, the topazes, and 
Cairngorm brooches, and tarnished lockets, and chains of 
filigree work from Genoa or Malta or Trichinopoly — each 
with a traditional history attached to it, each dating from 
the dead past. The necklace, with its clasp — “ real stones, 
my dear, and, indeed, poor Uncle Joseph was too proud 
to have given me paste on my wedding day ” — would do 
nicely for a dinner party, and then the pearl bracelet was 
the very thing, and that cross, a Maltese one, extremely 
handsome, only Mavina must take great care of it, and 
never wear it out of doors, because of London thieves. 

With her own dresses, and a selected portion of her 
mother’s gewgaws, it was considered that Mavina could 
figure creditably at whatever festivities she might be asked 
to. And of mild dissipation there was likely to be enough, 
for Mr. Crockford, who was a well-known Parliamentary 
agent, was rich, and kept his carriage ; and his wife and 
daughters were supposed to see a good deal of society, in 
their way. 

On the next morning, then, Mavina Malstock traveled 
up to London by the express, speeding along the iron way 
with a swift smoothness that contrasted oddly with her 
excellent father’s vivid recollections of the self-same jour- 
ney, painfully performed, in his own boyish days. 

No event worthy of record occurred on Miss Malstock’s 
commonplace journey, save that, at a junction where there 
was a brief halt, she found time to drop into the letterbox 
marked V.R., a letter, addressed to “ W — Hotel, Strand.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

WITH JEMIMA CROCKFORD. 

Breakfast at Mr. Crockford’s residence in Cambridge 
Terrace was a very different meal from that which went by 
the same name in honest Dr. Malstock’s red-brick house in 
Crown Street, Wortham. There were, even in winter, 
brilliant flowers on the table, and a great show of silver, 


I 5 2 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


„ or, at least, of electro plate, and a tall footman in a gaudy 
livery, like a macaw, stalking solemnly in and out, and fine 
new furniture, new stucco, new plate-glass windows, new 
frames to the pictures on the walls — pictures that were 
reputed to be old, and which, if you might believe their 
present possessor, had been bought at high prices, and 
would, in the course of a few years, be saleable for some- 
thing fabulous. 

A pompous-spoken man was Mr. Crockford as ever 
wore grey whiskers and rattled a heavy watch chain. 
Election matters, no doubt, he understood, for compara- 
tively few of the M.P.s of his creation were afterwards 
ejected for bribery, and yet an immense deal of money 
must, in one way or another, have passed though his hands, 
and some of it, legitimately of course, had adhered to his 
fingers, for Mrs. Malstock had been accurate in saying 
that the Crockfords were well off. 

Jemima’s papa was not exactly an agreeable man. Per- 
haps a Parliamentary agent, who sees so much of human 
weakness, cannot always be that ; but he was indulgent as 
a father, and not close-fisted as a husband. He gave good 
dinners, but was generally from home at other times. 

Mrs. Crockford, who was tall and thin, an anxious-eyed 
woman with pretentious manners and a joyless little, 
cackling laugh, only seemed to exist to keep house for Mr. 
Crockford, and to chaperon her daughters. Of these, but 
one was at home, Mavina’s former schoolfellow. Jemima, 
too, was tall, a silly, affected girl, with frizzled hair, over- 
dressed, and with an overweening estimate of her own 
charms, which, to impartial eyes, were less perceptible. 
She was quite happy, however, for vanity enwrapped her like 
a mantle, whereas her far shrewder school friend, with her 
plotting brains, and dire resentment rankling in her heart, 
was less to be envied as she sat, smiling, among the 
strangers whose guest she was on the morning after her 
arrival. 

Mr. . Crockford had been the readier to sanction the 
invitation which his daughter had despatched, because 
Jemima had boasted pretty frequently of her schoolfellow’s 
intimacy with people of higher rank than ever darkened 
tire doors of the house in Cambridge Terrace, and with 
whose names Mavina’s letters had made her familiar. 

“ This is a very different style of thing, of course, from 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT, 


*53 


what Miss Malstock is accustomed to among her grand 
friends in the North,” said the Parliamentary agent, with 
ostentatious humility, as he looked around at the evidences 
of wealth, or, at least, of lavish expenditure, by which he 
was surrounded. “ Yet, you are welcome, young lady, to 
this poor abode of mine. Have you seen the Marquess of 
Cheviot and Lady Egeria Fitzurse very lately, may I ask ? ” 
Mavina had seen these two distinguished neighbors very 
recently. 

“ I was at Hurst Royal last Wednesday, and stayed to 
dine there,” she said, with perfect truth. She did not add 
that she had gone up to the mansion to tell her patroness 
how miserably hopeless she now felt as to the chance of 
Walter Travis being found alive, and that Lady Egeria, 
out of pure kindness, had insisted on her remaining for the 
eight o’clock dinner; but spoke as if such an attention on 
•the part of her titled friends was quite habitual. And 
accordingly Miss Malstock rose several degrees in the 
estimation of the Crockford family. 

“ We can’t, of course, pretend to keep pace with high 
flyers of that sort,” said Mr. Crockford, again parading his 
fat humility ; “ but we will do our best — ahem ! — Miss 
Malstock, to make your stay pleasant. I have met the 
marquess — a fine old nobleman — on business, with other 
members of the party, at the Palladium, which I daresay 
you have heard of ? ” 

Mavina was too sharp-eared to be ignorant of the name 
of the famous political club — Pall Mall stronghold of those 
who thought as did the owner of Hurst Royal, and knew 
as well as Mr. Crockford himself how much was done there 
towards influencing contested elections. 

“ I have often heard the marquess speak of it,” was her 
demure reply ; “ and Lord Sparkleton, too, is a member, 
as he told me the other evening.” 

“ You are so dreadfully wise about politics, which are 
far beyond me, Mavvie, dear,” giggled out Jemina, “ that 
I shall be quite afraid of you before long. But isn’t Lady 
Sparkleton a beautiful woman, and don’t they admire her 
awfully in your part of the world, and do you think she 
paints — I don’t mean as all society paints, you know, but 
real enamelling ? I believe, for one, that it is sheer envy 
that makes people whisper such a thing.” 

“ Hush, Jemima ! you must not ask such home questions 


1 54 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


about Miss Malstock’s friends. I daresay it’s all founded 
on iil-natured gossip, because her ladyship is run after as 
we know she is.” protested Mrs. Crockford, with her arti- 
ficial laugh. 

Mavina declined to give a positive opinion as to the 
genuineness of Lady Sparkleton’s complexion, somewhat 
to the vexation of her hostess and Miss Jemima, who had 
just seen that professional beauty in her carriage in the 
Park, but had read much concerning her in the society 
journals. Nor did she volunteer any statement as to her 
own acquaintance with the peeress, but allowed cross 
examination to elicit the fact that she had been present at 
the party at Barbury Court, which, as students of gilt-edged 
books of reference are aware, is one of the residences of 
the Right Honorable Marmaduke Algernon Rivers, Earl 
of Sparkleton, and had sung there, as had also the noble 
mistress of the house. 

After this it was felt that Jemima’s choice of a school 
friend had been judicious, and that Miss Malstock was in 
all respects a most creditable inmate. Then breakfast was 
concluded, and Mr. Crockford, as usual, went off in his 
brougham, with its high-stepping horses — bought from an 
unseated candidate at a moment of financial depression — 
to his office near Whitehall, and the visitor and the fairer 
members of the family were left to get through the morning 
as they might. 

That Mrs. Crockford talked a talk as artificial as her 
laugh ; that Jemima chattered, and sniggled, and was full 
of innuendo and allusions, may easily be guessed. Also 
Mavina was asked to sing, and she sang in a powerful 
yet cultivated voice, such as, except in the case of a 
hired cantatrice who looked in at an evening party to earn 
her five or six guineas by a few bursts of Italian bravura, 
had never there been hearkened to. 

And anxious Mrs. Crockford began immediately to plan 
an entertainment at which her daughter’s dear friend, who 
was so intimate with Lady Egeria and the Countess of 
Sparkleton, should be the star of the night, and help to 
overthrow rival party-givers, such as Mrs. Brownrigg, and 
that Lady Gibbie, who gave herself such airs because of 
the defunct alderman’s knighthood. 

Presently Mavina made quiet mention of the fact that a 
a friend — a gentleman — might be expected to call, about 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*55 


twelve o’clock, and to inquire for her. Would it be incon- 
venient if she asked to receive him alone ? Whereupon, 
with much giggling, Jemima Crockford made reply — 

“ To be sure, Mavvie — of course, dear ; though it does 
sound so highly mysterious the very day after your arrival 
in London — does it not, mamma ? But that is only my 
fun, you know ; and I daresay you will tell poor Jemmie 
all about it. You had better see your visitor in the dining- 
room, which you can have to yourselves. No one ever 
goes there except papa, and he is almost always out, as 
to-day.” 

At twelve o’clock the anticipated visitor knocked at the 
door. His card was brought up to Miss Malstock, who 
went down to the dining-room to receive Mr. Holt, sun- 
bronzed and with* a sort of unhallowed triumph glittering 
in his overbright eyes and flashing from his white teeth. 

“ Glad to see you, Miss Mavina,” he said, effusively, as 
he took her hand in his, and held it for a moment. “ I 
have called, as you see, in obedience to your commands. 
Your letter to myself bore the Middleton stamp. I sup- 
pose, Miss M., you posted it as you came along? ” 

“Yes, I did,” replied Mavina, gently but resolutely 
releasing her hand from his grasp ; “ and you see, Mr. 
Holt, that I have lost no time in following your advice. 
Here I am, and no one, not Lady Egeria even, has an 
idea of the real reason for my being here, in London. Is 
the — dreadful thing quite, quite certain ? ” 

“ Only too certain ! ” answered Jasper, shaking his head ; 
“horrible as it is, the tidings I sent you are but too true. 
I, who have been tracking out the affair inch by inch, am 
of course more confident about it than it is possible that 
you should be, Miss Mavina. But if you will draw your 
chair a little nearer to mine, I will tell you, briefly, what I 
learned, at the cost of infinite pains and thought, out in 
India.” 

And, lowering his voice, for he had no desire to be 
overheard, Jasper Holt proceeded to relate his Indian 
experiences, and to lay stress upon the proofs of the alleged 
murder. Mavina listened shudderingly and with downcast 
eyes. When she looked up again her face was paler than 
before, and bore the glistening trace of recent tears. 

“ My poor Walter ! ” she said, very softly. Her love 
for the penniless, homeless adventurer had been the one 


* 5 6 


THE LADY EGER/A ; 


noble and redeeming feature in her character — the one s jft 
spot in her heart. Even Jasper respected the emotion that 
she could not quite repress. She did not immediately con- 
tinue the conversation, but for some minutes averted her 
bice, and was still. Then she turned towards the Wortham 
lawyer. 

“ It is a terrible piece of wickedness, from first to last,’’ 
she said, steadily, “ and you hawe been wonderfully clever, 
Mr. Holt, to unravel such a tanked skein as patiently as 
you have done.” 

“ For your sake, dear Miss Mavina,” replied Jasper, ad- 
miringly, “ I have worked out the case as I never worked 
before, with heavy odds against me. Yesterday I had an 
interview with the Public Prosecutor. To-morrw I go to 
the Home Office, by appointment. On Sunday, of course, 
nothing can be done, but on Monday I am to be at the 
office of the Treasury solicitors at eleven o’clock, and if 
you could do me the favor to meet me there, your evidence 
with regard to the ruby ring could be taken, to be laid 
before the authorities. It is for them to decide as to the 
inquiry for which I have applied.” 

“ I do not much like being mixed up in such matters,” 
answered Mavina, with some distaste ; “ but I will do what 
you wish, and more, to bring to justice the assassin of 
Walter Travis.” 

Then Jasper gave her the address of the office in question, 
and a few more words were exchanged between them, and 
then Jasper Holt took his leave. 

“ I shall not call again unless something urgent occurs,” 
said the solicitor, prudently. “ My coming here, were it 
repeated, might set afloat some report which might even 
reach our own neighborhood, and give the alarm prema- 
turely. It will be safer to write.” 

“ I think so. It would be most provoking, after all our 
trouble, if he should escape,” said Mavina, with a tigerish 
gleam in her fine eyes. 

“ No, no,” returned Jasper with a chuckle ; “ our titled 
friend will not slip so easily, rely upon it, out of the net 
that is closing in upon him day by day.” 

Then he shook hands with Miss Malstock and departed, 
and nothing worth chronicling occurred on that day, save 
that at dinner time, Mr. Crockford, who had been out all 
through the intervening hours, made some remark as to 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*57 


Sir Richard Harrington’s rent-roll, and the fact that two 
deaths of near kindred had suddenly made him what he 
was. “Unmarried, eh, Miss Malstock ? ” said the Parlia- 
mentary agent, with a leer that was meant to be arch, and 
Jemima caught at the idea which her father had suggested. 

“ We don’t want to be inquisitive, Mavvie, love ; but, 
oh ! is he good looking as well as enormously rich, this 
gay young baronet, who, I daresay, is one of your beaux, 
if all were known ? ” ^ 

Mavina’s eyes sparkled angrily at the mention of the 
hated name. But she answered, as unconcernedly as she 
could, that Sir Richard was thought to be good looking, 
but that her own acquaintance with him was very slight 
indeed. So no more was said as to the lord of Greystone 
Abbey. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

AT THE HOME OFFICE. 

Jasper Holt, though he had when conversing with Mavina 
expressed perfect confidence as to the result of his mission, 
was in his own heart by no means so sanguine of success 
as he had represented himself to be. 

This was his first experience of dealings with the official 
world, and he felt himself, as many a better man than he 
has done, discouraged by the reception he had met with 
from those who are accustomed to view all subjects through 
official spectacles. It was not merely that he had been 
snubbed by messengers and hall porters, nor that his first 
written application for an audience had been evasively 
answered by the most flippant of clerks. 

These things he had expected. Those who wish to gain 
Britannia’s private ear must go through some ordeal, as 
did knights errant of old before they got into the enchanted 
castle, where, guarded by dragons and lions that rattled 
their chains and growled menace, the beautiful princess 
lay in magic slumber. 

But when Mr. Holt’s pertinacity had secured him a 
hearing, it chafed him to find that his story was received, 
politely indeed, but with a cold-blooded calm that savored 
more of caution than of enthusiasm. 


1 5 8 


THE LADY EG ERL A ; 


“Under consideration ! ” he muttered to himself as he 
threaded his way along the crowded Strand. “ How fond 
they are of that phrase, or any other that may act as a we 
blanket ! There were understrappers, I suppose, attached 
to the Ministry of the period, who would have kept the 
Gunpowder Plot * under consideration ’ until King, Lords, 
and Commons had been blown skyhigh by the help of Mr. 
Guido Fawkes and his dark lantern. But I suppose I 
must be patient.” 

Jasper well knew, as he uttered these irritable words, 
that his best course was to be patient, and to pick his way 
to victory, with the aid of what he irreverently designated 
as Red Tape. 

He had other courses open to him. An inquiry, if asked 
for in India, would no doubt have been conceded by the 
Viceroy ; and then if sworn information were laid before 
the magistrates of the county in which Greystone and 
Wortham were situated, The Bench could not refuse to 
take action in the matter. But then, as the sharp solicitor 
was aware, there would arise all sorts of difficulties as to 
jurisdiction and venue : there would be the maximum of 
scandal and fuss, the minimum of net result. Undue 
publicity, bungling decisions, perhaps partiality towards 
an accused Justice of the Peace for that very county, might 
lead to a judicial failure. The bird might elude the snare 
of the fowler, or, less figuratively, Sir Richard Harrington 
might fly beyond the limits of British jurisdiction. 

“ It would never do,” muttered Jasper, as he elbowed 
his way forward, “ for him to be let out on bail and to 
break his bail, and get clear off, perhaps to some country 
with which there is no Treaty of Extradition. The loop- 
holes for escape are fewer than they were, but it is well 
to think of everything, if only for Mavina’s sake.” 

The Wortham lawyer was as much attached to Mavina 
as it was in his nature to be. His admiration for her good 
looks was quite sincere ; but none the less was he bent on 
marrying her because he deemed that Mrs. Malstock’s two 
thousand pounds in Consols, which would eventually lapse 
to her daughter, would under his management prove the 
seed of a golden harvest. And he was quite sure that the 
way to win Mavina’s heart was to aid her in her revenge. 
This time Jasper, as having come by appointment, was 
regarded by the underlings of the Home Office as a bore 


rt 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*59 


who must be tolerated. He had, of course, to kick his heels 
for some half hour or so in a waiting room of depressing 
aspect ; but then a young clerk came hurrying in. 

* k Mr. Holt? — thought so! This way, please. Mr. 
Lackerby can see you now.” 

. And Jasper soon found himself in a room more comfort- 
ably furnished, and seated opposite to a large elderly gen- 
tleman, whose short-cut hair was crisp and grey, and whose 
steady eyes surveyed him from beneath beetling brows. 
This was Mr. Lackerby. 

Mr. Horace Lackerby was one of those valuable public 
servants who are content, through a laborious life, to 
renounce laurels and the dust of the contest. He had 
been in Parliament, as a silent member who might be 
trusted to vote straight, but had given up the House to 
stick to the desk. 

Official business was what he thoroughly understood, 
and what he lived for. For him, as he well knew, there 
could be no promotion beyond the grade he had reached. 
LI is chiefs, mere politicians, rose and fell with the Ministries 
they belonged to ; but he was as much a permanency as 
were the messengers, and his only ambition (as a neutral 
Under-Secretary of State) was to die in harness. Over and 
above his official salary, of secondary importance to one 
who had large private means, he had his reward in know- 
ing how necessary a portion of the machinery of Govern- 
ment he was felt to be. 

His chiefs, if famous in debate, were children as com- 
pared with him in their knowledge of the details that it 
takes half a lifetime to master, and constantly and very 
properly deferred to his opinion whenever left free to 
choose. 

“ Your request, Mr. Holt,” said the Under-Secretary, 
looking fixedly at Jasper, and speaking in a dry, measured 
tone, ‘‘is receiving full consideration, I can assure you, in 
the proper quarter. You are aware, no doubt, that the 
course you have adopted is unusual ? ” 

“ The circumstances, sir, are unusual,” answered Jasper, 
boldly; “and authorize me, therefore, to aim high. It is 
better to do that than miss my mark.” 

“ Perhaps so ! ” responded the official, softly, as he 
shifted the position of the heavy signet ring on his fat, 
white finger, and eyed the Wortham lawyer with a scrutiny 


i6o 


THE LADY EGER I A ; 


that was almost severe. “ Perhaps, too, Mr. Holt, you 
prefer to set things in motion without yourself coming pro- 
minently forward at the outset of this affair ? ” 

“ Only,” replied Jasper, promptly, u because I am afraid 
of a failure of justice if I take other steps, Mr. Lackerby, 
I give you my word. But for that, I should not trouble 
you, or waste my own time in London.” 

Mr. Horace Lackerby looked again, from beneath his 
cavernous brows, at the applicant, and sighed inaudibly 
as he perceived that the official camel must take on its 
back one burthen more. He was a gentleman and a man 
of the world, and had quickly taken the moral measure of 
Jasper Holt. The fellow was a bad fellow. He was a 
loud, impudent, coarse-minded knave. Out of his own 
mouth he stood condemned of treachery to his client — of 
double dealing and falsehood. He was too morally blind 
to see himself in the odious light in which he appeared to 
an experienced man of honor and trained intellect. 

Mr. Lackerby was sorry to become, officially, a cat’s- 
paw for the vengeance of such a one as the Wortham 
solicitor. Why did he not do his dirty work through the 
medium of police courts and the like ? 

But still, bad fellow or not, Jasper could not be sent 
empty away. Britannia could not refuse him a hearing, or 
turn him from her door, however repulsive he might be. 
The Under-Secretary had a fine instinct which told him, as 
an invisible familiar might have done, what could and what 
could not be effected by official discouragement. He felt 
half sorry for Sir Richard, of whom he had never heard 
until a day or two ago, as the unlucky target for the 
malignity of his hidden foes ; but he was quite sure that to 
deny what was asked for would set a hundred pens and 
printing presses at work, and do as much harm to Govern- 
ment as to be out-voted on Supply. 

“ Very well, then,” said the Under-Secretary, glancing 
at some papers which lay before him, and taking up a 
pencil ; “we will, if you please, go through this evidence 
— copies of which I have here — and see what it is worth, 
so far as is possible at such a distance. You found the 
witnesses, if I understand you aright, through the help of 
your convenient friend, the Kotwall of Futtehpore — not 
gratis, Mr. Holt, as I venture to suppose ? ” 

“ I had to grease his palm, pretty handsomely, too,” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


161 


rejoined Jasper, with cynical effrontery. “ But I must 
say that old Mustapha gave me the value of my rupees, 
after all.” 

“ Of Sir Harrington’s rupees, we may say,” answered 
the official, with a dry cough. “ Well, what is the tale 
that these discarded servants, as they seem to be, have to 
tell? If you will allow me, Mr. Holt, I will run my eye 
quickly, again, over the deposition to refresh my memory.” 
He took up his gold-rimmed eyeglass as he spoke, and 
began to read. When he had finished, he laid the glass 
aside, and looked again at Jasper. 

“A well-supported statement, I allow, if it will bear the 
test of cross-examination later on,” said Mr. Lackerby, 
quietly. “ There are witnesses and witnesses. You legal 
gentlemen, I believe, dislike those who, in the old phrase 
of the Bar, prove too much.” 

Jasper winced a little. 

“The poor creatures,” he said, half sullenly, “seemed 
quite convinced of the truth of what they affirmed on 
oath. And their depositions tally well with one another.” 
“ They do,” replied Mr. Lackerby, tapping the papers 
with his signet ring. “ These natives of low rank, you are 
aware, lie like the Father of Lies. Not but that, in this 
instance, their assertions may be strictly accurate, or nearly 
so. Supposing there was a duel at all, Mr. Holt, and that 
the principals were Sir Richard and Walter Travis, what, 
I ask, makes us sure that the encounter was unfair? ” 
Jasper submitted that the entry in the deceased Mr. 
Graham’s diary established that fact beyond reasonable 
doubt. “ H. certainlv fired first” were words not to be 
explained away. 

“ We must remember, too, that a fatal result to a duel 
is, in any case, murder in the eye of the law,” said the 
solicitor. 

Mr. Horace Lackerby shrugged up his shoulders as he 
gave a perfunctory assent to this doctrine. 

“So it is,” he said, slowly, “and very properly so. 
But public sentiment has to be reckoned with too. If the 
duel was really unfair — a mere colorable pretext for 
assassination — why, then, of course, Mr. Holt, the affair 
would assume a darker dye, and Her Majesty’s Government 
would feel it a duty to provide for justice being done.” 

“ That is all I ask — justice without fear or favor,” 

11 


162 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


responded Jasper, dauntlessly, and beginning to think that 
in his own phraseology, he rode the winning horse. The 
official said nothing, but busied himself with penciling 
down a few marginal notes. 

“ The evidence of Lashgar, the carpenter,” he said, 
suddenly, as he again glanced at the Wortham lawyer, 
“ seems to have dropped in like a ripe plum, and very 
opportunely, Mr. Holt, during your short railway trip to 
Delhi and back ? ” 

Jasper again submitted that there was nothing very 
extraordinary in the turning up of such testimony just 
then. The Kotwall, keenly alive to his own advantage, 
was, doubtless, ransacking every available nook and corner, 
with the aid of his police, for proofs that would be paid 
for. And his activity had probably been stimulated by 
the fact that Mr. Holt’s departure from India was immi- 
nent, and that there would, very shortly, be nothing more 
to be got. 

“ It is refreshing,” said the Under-Secretary, dubiously, 
“ to talk to a practical man like yourself, Mr. Holt, who 
takes so common sense a view of matters. I dare say you 
are right, and that this excellent native functionary — what 
do you call him? yes, Mustapha Khan — did see the busi- 
ness in the same light as yourself. I think we have said, 
now, all that at present need be said. You have an appoint- 
ment, I think, with the solicitor to the treasury for Mon- 
day next ? ” 

Jasper admitted that this was so. 

“ And I have your address here,” added the official, 
after a cursory examination of the bundle of papers, which 
had been tied together, by the way, not with red tape, but 
with narrow green ribbon, “ and you shall hear the result 
of your application, which I shall lay at once before the 
Secretary of State very shortly. The legal aspects of the 
case have to be carefully studied, Mr. Holt, as well as the 
moral ones.” 

And then he nodded, and half rose, as Jasper bowed 
himself out. 

“ That fellow’s company,” said Mr. Horace Lackerby to 
himself, when the door had closed, “would be too bad for 
a hangman. But, such as he is, he must have his way, 
before he sets a score of newspapers baying at our heels.” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


163 


CHAPTER XXX. 

IN WHICH MAVINA PLAYS HER PART. 

Mavina Malstock, domiciled for the moment with her 
new friends in Cambridge Terrace, was not allowed to find 
the time hang heavily on her hands. The Crockfords, 
mother and daughter, seemed bent on keeping their guest 
in constant motion. 

The town mice felt, or affected, a fear lest the country 
mouse should be “ moped to death ” beneath their roof, 
and while deploring that Mavina’s visit should not coincide 
with the glories of the London season, did their best to 
dazzle and distract her. 

It was too wintry for the Park, but there were some few 
of the stock sights which rural cousins are traditionally 
supposed to enjoy, and which were new to Mavina. 
“ They keep us so strict at Cavendish House, you know,” 
to use Jemima’s phrase. 

The carriage, for there was a flashy looking carriage, 
quite apart from Mr. Crockford’s useful brougham, was in 
perpetual requisition, and there was shopping, and there 
were calls, and afternoon teas, and a dinner on the Sunday 
at Lady Gibbes’, where a place at the table had somehow 
been secured for Mavina, and there was talk of other festi- 
vities to follow, so that Miss Malstock began to wonder 
how she should find leisure for carrying out the object for 
which she was then in London. 

However, when Monday morning came, Mavina, having 
a clear head and a strong will, managed to get clear of her 
too attentive entertainers, and to set off in a cab, and alone, 
“ on business of papa’s,” as she unblushingly declared. 

She gave the driver of the cab some vague address in 
Fleet Street, and it was not until she was far from Cam- 
bridge Terrace and inquisitive listeners that she altered 
her route, and bade the cabman drive her to the offices of 
the Solicitors to the Treasury, where she was to meet Mr. 
Holt. 


164 


THE LADY EG ERL A ; 


She found Jasper, as she had rather expected him to be, 
awaiting her. on the pavement before the door. 

“ Glad to see you, Miss Mavina,” said the Wortham 
lawyer, as he took her hand, “ and glad, too, that you have 
contrived to be punctual, for these Government folk are, 
as our Scotch neighbors describe it, 1 kittle cattle to shoe,’ 
and not easy to get on with. I had a tough afternoon at 
the Home Office on Saturday, I can tell you. Mr. Tape 
and Sealing Wax, or whatever they may call him, who in- 
terviewed me, looked and spoke as if he would have liked 
to commit me for trial instead of Sir R., but I suspect he’ll 
feel compelled to swallow the pill, with or without sugar, 
and grant us what we want. Now for my brethren of the 
law. You’ll remember, Miss M., that it’s a golden rule in 
giving evidence never to say a word too much. Stick to 
your story, but don’t be led away from it.” 

Mavina nodded silently. Her eyes were bright, her 
demeanor calm and resolute, but of excitement, as of fear, 
there was no trace. Jasper was satisfied, and led her in. 
A very brief probation in an outer office among staring 
clerks, and then the two were called into an inner room. 
Here was the solicitor who was to conduct this branch of 
the inquiry, a member, of course, of the legal firm acting 
for the Treasury, a plain, middled-aged man of business, 
whose name was Gregg. There were others present. 
One of these was Mr. Mole, that eminent Chamber coun- 
sel, a barrister who never wore a wig, but whose name — 
never in the newspapers — was known to every attorney in 
the realm as that of a legal pundit, to whom bad law was 
what discord in music is to a great composer. 

Mr. Mole, who was supposed to net some thousands a 
year in his quiet way without holding a brief or entering a 
law court, gave opinions that were prized as were the 
utterances of the Delphic Oracle, and had come forth from 
his chambers to give one now. 

Then there was a Junior Lord of the Treasury, the Hon. 
Alberic Lovel, who was supposed to attend to see whether 
this was a case in which Britannia’ a purse strings could 
with propriety be unloosed. He who was M.P. for the 
stormy and fickle constituency of W — stood apart, fault- 
lessly dressed, with his gardenia in his button hole, like a 
mere dandy who had strayed in, and only woke up to a 
little languid interest when he saw Mavina’s handsome and 
remarkable face. 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


l6 5 

Also there was a gentleman from the Home Office, Mr. 
Paterson, a cool-headed official of thirty, sent to watch the 
case. And there was a grizzled personage of martial 
aspect, one Major Reynolds, H.E.I.C., etc., who wrote 
Arabic and Persian more glibly than he did English, who 
was learned in Sanscrit, and was reputed to know every 
Indian dialect, from pure Urdu to the most crabbed Cana- 
rese, and who was there as an expert. 

Jasper and Mavina — the latter especially — met with a 
civil reception enough. The Wortham lawyer was invited 
to state his case, and he did state it, tellingly, and taking 
care, as he afterwards exultingly affirmed, to clinch every 
nail that he knocked in. Mr. Gregg, the Treasury Solici- 
tor, listened to him with patient courtesy, and without 
showing any signs of that aversion which Mr. Horace 
Lackerby had been unable to repress. 

Perhaps the experienced Mr. Gregg, like some renowned 
surgeon whose consulting room is a confessional for broken- 
down invalids, knew so much of human frailty as to regard 
it from a philosophic standpoint. The Junior Lord of the 
Treasury stared a little when Jasper expatiated on the use 
he had made in India of the funds of his betrayed client, 
and a slight expression of contempt was visible in the curl 
of his lip, but he said nothing, and quiet Mr. Paterson 
from the Home Office was equally reserved. 

Then the original depositions, in Hindustani and in 
English, were laid before Major Reynolds, the expert, who 
brought his double eyeglass to bear upon the queer char- 
acters with a gentle sigh, perhaps of regret, that so com- 
monplace a task as the easy one of interpreting the best- 
known language of India should have been assigned to a 
linguistic sage like himself, and presently certified that, 
allowing for a few trifling grammatical errors, the transla- 
tion given was fairly accurate. 

“ I should have liked to ask those fellows — the grass- 
cutter and his boy — a question or two in their own tongue 
— the Jeloogoo,” he said, as he gave back the papers ; 
“ but I daresay the Ivotwall, who, in his position, must 
often have been brought into contact with offenders or 
witnesses of their low caste, was able to interpret their dia- 
lect pretty well.” 

Then the diary that had belonged to Lieutenant Graham 
was studied as if it had been some precious papyrus just 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


1 66 

found in a mummy pit and professing to throw a side light 
on the Exodus from Egypt. 

How far was it evidence? On this point and others, 
Mr. Mole was respectfully, and in whispering tones, con- 
sulted. The legal oracle did not commit himself by say- 
ing much, but he made copious notes, and “ took time to 
consider ” his opinion. Once or twice he nodded, and, 
like Lord Burleigh’s nod in the Critic , this was supposed 
to mean a good deal. Once he shook his head. But he 
was too sound a legal workman to be in a hurry, or to 
omit to see the flaws as well as the strong points of the 
case. 

“And now, Miss Malstock,” politely said the Treasury 
Solicitor, “we shall be happy to hear, if you please, what 
vou have to tell us as to this unfortunate affair.’ 

Then a chair was set for Mavina nearer to the table, and 
she came forward, and, in reply to Mr. Gregg’s questioning, 
told her tale. She related, with just enough of maiden 
modesty to make her interesting, how she had corres- 
ponded, without the knowledge of her parents, with Walter 
Travis during his wanderings in China, Australia, and 
India. She told how his letters had quite suddenly ceased ; 
how she had written urgently, but without reply ; and how 
a presentiment of evil had forced itself upon her, and 
haunted her night and day. And she narrated how she 
had, unsanctioned by those at home, consulted Mr. Holt, 
and elicited from her highly-placed friend, Lady Egeria 
Fitzurse, her kind promise to defray the expenses of a 
search in India for the missing man. Mr. Holt had under- 
taken to make inquiries by letter. The idea of going per- 
sonally to that remote country had at first suggested itself, 
she believed, neither to him nor to her. The first search, 
undertaken by proxy, had utterly failed. The Bombay 
firm of lawyers had only been able to ascertain that there 
were floating rumors of foul play. 

“ Mere bazaar gossip ; but it flies fast, and is often 
true,” interjected Major Reynolds at this point. “ I have 
known a victory or a defeat to be talked of in the bazaar 
before a line of official information came in, from a great 
distance sometimes. I beg your pardon, young lady, if I 
have interrupted you.” 

Then Mavina went on. She told how she had dined at 
Hurst Royal, in company with Sir Richard Harrington ; 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


167 


how, during Lady Sparkleton’s song, after dinner, Sir 
Richard, who was describing to her some Indian photo- 
graphic views, had accidentally shown her on his finger a 
remarkable ring, which she well knew, and had frequently 
seen on the finger of her lost friend, Mr. Walter Travis. 
She had asked him a question as to this ring, and he had 
been strangely agitated, and had made the following reply, 
every word of which was stamped upon her memory : 
“ Oh, yes — the ring — it belonged to an old friend — a chum 
of mine in India — he died.” 

These words were uttered in a broken voice and in a 
confused manner — a manner which, to her thinking, indi- 
cated guilt. Then her own feelings had overpowered her, 
and she had given a cry, and fallen — swooning, as she 
believed, for all grew dark. She had never since then 
held any conversation with Sir Richard. She had shunned 
him, and, as it appeared to her, he had equally striven 
to avoid her. Mavina’s evidence produced, clearly, a 
powerful impression on the audience. There was a mur- 
mur, as of sympathy, in which all joined, save only placid 
Mr. Mole, the Chamber counsel. 

“ You are quite sure, Miss Malstock, that this ring was the 
very one that you remember to have belonged to the miss- 
ing Mr. Walter Travis ? ” questioned the Treasury Solici- 
tor, cautiously. “ You cannot be too particular as to what 
you will have to affirm on oath.” 

“ I am quite sure,” replied Mavina, with heightened 
color and steadfast eyes ; “ I could not be mistaken there. 
Poor Walter Travis ” — her voice trembled here, and all 
felt sorry for her — “talked to me, often, of that ring. It 
was one that had been given to his mother long ago by his 
father, the Admiral. They are both dead now, Walter’s 
parents. The ring was not a common one. It was of In- 
dian workmanship — Admiral Travis, brought it from Cal- 
cutta, I think — a serpent in yellow gold, set with three fine 
rubies, round which its coils were twisted — an unusual de- 
vice. Walter set great store by it. I am sure he never 
parted with it until — until — ” 

She broke down, sobbing, here, and by this time she 
had made a partisan of every man present, even including 
calm Mr. Mole, who really felt somewhat of a generous 
glow run through his veins at the sight of the girl’s dis- 
tress. 


THE LADY EGER LA ; 


1 68 

The Solicitor to the Treasury looked at the Junior Lord, 
and read assent in his eyes. Britannia might unloose her 
purse strings, and welcome, to bring to light such hidden 
iniquity as that which had just been denounced. The 
Home Office, so far as Mr. Paterson’s opinion went, was 
of one mind with the Hon. M.P. for W — . After this, 
Mavina was pressed with no more questions. Her depo- 
sition, of which Mr. Gregg had taken notes, was written 
out in cxtcnso , and she was asked to read it over and to 
sign it. And this she did. 

Then there was more confabulation with Mr. Mole as to 
his reversed points of law, and some solemn talk, on the 
part of the Treasury Solicitor, about laying the complete 
case before the Secretary of State for the Home Depart- 
ment, and referring it also to “ My Lords,” as to expenses, 
but before Jasper and Miss Malstock were bowed out, they 
were given informally to understand that the Official In- 
quiry craved for would almost certainly be granted. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

STILL UP IN LONDON. 

Mavina was in no hurry to return to Wortham and the 
domestic circle in Crown Street. On the contrary, she 
much preferred to remain for awhile as a guest beneath 
the Crockfords’ hospitable roof, and to allow her visit to 
endure to the end of the period originally proposed. 

For this choice she had two good reasons. First, any 
abrupt curtailment of her stay in town would occasion 
wonder and comment ; and, secondly, the whirl and bustle 
of London life served to distract her thoughts and to calm 
the nervous excitement caused by the eager pursuit of her 
revenge. 

Jasper Holt, too, was quite willing to remain for the 
present at his hotel in the Strand. He could not well 
show himself in Wortham without having an interview 
with Sir Richard Harrington, and with all his effrontery, 
he was reluctant to meet his betrayed client face to face. 

Later on it would be different. Should the decision of 
the Government be for prompt action, as there was reason 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


169 


to hope, then Mr. Holt could accompany the members of 
the Commission who would be appointed to conduct the 
inquiry, and would thus avoid awkward questions asked 
in private. He did not, however, intend to eat the bread 
of idleness, so having business of his own in London, he 
still contrived to be active while awaiting the decree of 
the Home Secretary and “ My Lords ” of Her Majesty’s 
Treasury 

Whatever, during his sojourn in London, the nature 
and importance of Jasper’s metropolitan business may 
have been, he managed to make it compatible with being 
a constant visitor in Cambridge Terrace. Mavina had 
introduced him to the Crockfords, and the north-country 
solicitor had found favor with the family with whom Miss 
Malstock was domiciled. 

Mr. Holt could be agreeable when he liked, at least to 
those who were not gifted with ultra delicacy of percep- 
tion ; and in his desire to be allowed to pay court to 
Mavina, he did his best to please. His fearless manner 
and loud ratttling talk impressed the meek mistress of the 
house, and won the suffrages of the susceptible Jemima, 
who quite envied her friend for possessing such an 
admirer. 

Even pompous Mr. Crockford took a fancy to him, as a 
shrewd fellow who knew a great deal about electioneering, 
and was thoroughly conciliated when Jasper, who soon 
found the length, so to speak, of his host’s foot, indulged 
him with a little of his caustic humor at the expense of a 
rival Parliamentary agent, Mr. Bluffitt, by whom Jemima’s 
papa had been worsted more often than he cared to 
acknowledge. 

“ So that was what you north country folk said of 
Bluffitt, did you, when he came down to carry your county 
by storm ? Ho ! ho ! ho ! Very good, Mr. Holt.” 

But Mr. Crockford omitted to mention that on the 
occasion of their last contest, professionally, Mr. Bluffitt 
had held him up to ridicule under the nicknames of “ Don 
Pomposo,” “Old High and Mighty,” and so forth, and 
had turned the laugh against him whenever a passage of 
arms occurred. 

Jasper was so bent on winning Mavina, now by the all 
but proved death of her former lover freed from any pre- 
vious engagement, that he would have undertaken to earn 


THE LADY £ GEE LA ; 


170 

the good-will of more difficult critics than were the Crock- 
fords for her sake. He was soon in the habit of calling 
daily in Cambridge Terrace, insomuch that the very foot- 
man, the very housemaids, came to know him well, and to 
designate him, after the fashion of servants, as Miss Mal- 
stock’s young man. Not a member of the family, not a 
dweller in the basement storey, but felt morally certain 
that Mr. Holt was then in London expressly on Mavina’s 
account, and that the legal business of which he spoke 
was a mere colorable pretext. And, below stairs, sundry 
speculations were afloat as to the probable amount of his 
income, and whether or not in accepting him Miss Mal- 
stock would make a good match. 

“ Some of those country lawyers are uncommon com- 
fortable, I believe,” said the footman, into whose hand 
Jasper had slipped a half sovereign but the day before. 

“ Get so many oysters to their own cheek, don’t they, 
and leave their clients the shells to dine upon !” rejoined 
the fat cook. 

“ Anyhow,” remarked a quick-eyed housemaid, “ if he 
comes from the country, his clothes don’t, for he’s as 
spruce as can be.” 

It was not only in patronizing, for the nonce, a Bond 
Street tailor, or in giving tips to servants, that Jasper 
showed himself liberal. There are always ways and means 
for a pleasure seeker in London to get rid of his super- 
fluous cash, and the Wortham lawyer was active in pro- 
curing tickets for expensive concerts and boxes at fashion- 
able theatres, so that the Crockfords, mother and daughter, 
were delighted to have made so agreeable an acquaintance. 

No one, beneath the Crockfords’ hospitable roof, no one 
of those friends of the Cambridge Terrace family to whom 
Jasper was introduced, could have divined that both he 
and Mavina were in London to play the part, as Avengers 
of Guilt, that the Greeks assigned to those grim Eume- 
nides, who, in the terrible drama of Hvschylus, pursue the 
fated Orestes ; or that they were as staunch as blood- 
hounds on the track of ill starred Sir Richard Harrington. 

They were very cautious not to let a word drop before 
strangers that could throw light upon the real motive for 
their stay, or reveal that there was any link between them 
other than there seemed to be. 

Of course, from time to time, Jasper Holt had some- 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


171 


thing to say as to the progress of their common enterprise, 
but he managed so that Mavina’s ear alone should receive 
the communication, and wiser persons than Jemima and 
her mother would have failed to guess that there was a 
serious purpose underlying the country girl’s natural wish 
to enjoy a share of the amusements of London. 

With regard to Jasper’s actual courtship, the opinions of 
the lookers on were divided as to how it throve. There 
were times when Mavina perceptibly thawed towards her 
admirer, and others when she seemed, not light and frivo- 
lous, like her shallow-brained school-fellow, but quite calm 
and indifferent. 

Mr. Holt was not in the least discouraged when he 
found his ladylove in such a mood as that above described. 
He flattered himself — as such men are sure to do — that 
he, to use his own words, “ knew all about” women. At 
any rate, he was cognizant of some of the peculiarities of 
the sex, and not unfairly concluded that when Miss Mal- 
stock seemed most wrapped up in her own thoughts, it 
was the memory of the dead lover that occupied her 
meditations. Jasper was not far wrong in his conjecture. 

The one ennobling feature in Mavina’s faulty character 
had been the sincerity of her attachment to the wandering 
adventurer who had fascinated her girlish fancy. For his 
sake, had he been so minded, she would have done any- 
thing, faced any amount of poverty and hardship. She 
was too sensible to let her romance cloud her mental 
vision, and knew quite well that the wife of an emigrant 
must endure much ; but had Walter Travis asked her to 
share with him a smoky log hut in Australia, or a shanty 
in New Zealand, she would have cheerfully gone with 
him to the Antipodes. 

And now Mavina was left to follow the promptings of 
her own heart. These were very various, and in some 
respects clashed with one another. Her nature — the one 
cardinal virtue of unselfish love apart — was in its essence 
false, sly and self-seeking. Even the capricious kindness 
of her early patroness, even the helpful good nature of her 
friend the Lady Egeria, she resented somehow, as if the 
benefits conferred on her had been injuries in disguise. 
Why had she been picked out as the pet and plaything of 
a. whimsical woman like the late Marchioness of Cheviot? 
Why was she inducted to the favor of a girl of high rank 


172 


THE LAD Y EGERIA ; 


for such social pleasures as her native county could sup- 
ply ? Not that Miss Malstock was at all inclined to con- 
tent herself with the humdrum tameness of domestic life 
in Crown Street and with the small society of Wortham 
proper. On the contrary, she wished to soar and to 
shine, and was keenly alive to the subtle difference of tone 
and manners between say, the Crockfords and the families 
who in the north had welcomed her for Lady Egeria’s 
sake. She had often dreamed of taking her place, by 
right and not by sufferance, among the Brahmins, of whom 
simple townsfolk spoke with bated breath. 

It is not wonderful that, with these darkling thoughts in 
her mind, and haunted, too, by recollections of her lost 
Walter, Mavina should have found it hard to smile upon 
her present adorer. Yet there were times when she 
doubted whether she could do better for herself than to 
encourage Jasper Holt. The man was astute and bold ; 
ambitious, too, after his lights, and might yet work his 
way a good deal higher up the ladder of worldly success. 
He could do that the easier if he had a wife who could 
assist him to climb. Mavina thought that she could do 
that. She had heard the country gentlemen grumbling 
against Tatham and Gudge, respectable family solicitors, 
who had helped two or three generations of magnates to 
bemuddle their affairs. Perhaps, were Miss Malstock, 
whom they knew, to become Mrs. Holt, her persuasive 
manner might bring a superior class of clients to the 
narrow office in Mill Lane. There was leisure enough, 
however, to think of this when the immediate object should 
be achieved. First of all, Sir Richard Harrington must 
be hunted down, and then — why, then there would be 
time to think of Jasper Holt and his addresses. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE STORM BURSTS. 

The weather, consistently fickle in our island, had changed 
again, and frost and snow showers and biting winds had 
given place to the mild moist mornings and mellow after- 
noons that gladdened Sir Simon’s heart, and gave many a 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


*73 


good run to the Border Foxhounds. And now, in the 
short daylight of a cloudy winter’s day, there arrived at 
Wortham, traveling by the express from London, a party 
whose rooms had been bespoken by telegraph at the Rose 
and Crown. 

At last the Government had ceased to hesitate. The 
official inquiry, long pending, had been decided upon, and 
the members of the Commission who had been appointed 
to conduct it had arrived at Wortham. 

There was Mr. Paterson from the Plome Office; there 
was the Treasury Solicitor, Mr. Gregg, with Major Rey- 
nolds of the Indian Army ; and a celebrated London sur- 
geon and authority on medical jurisprudence, Dr. Hope, 
on whom, according to well-informed paragraphs in the 
papers, a baronetcy, previously declined, was about to be 
conferred. Also, traveling by the same train, there came 
four members of the detective force, an inspector, a ser- 
geant, and two constables in plain clothes, from Scotland 
Yard, while the chief of the county constabulary had re- 
ceived a summons to attend. 

There was another member of the Commission, who, on 
account of his rank and local dignity, had been included 
in it, and who presently made his appearance in the great 
first-floor sitting-room of the Rose and Crown in as com- 
plete a state of mental perturbation as well could be. This 
was the Marquess of Cheviot, Lord Lieutenant of the 
County, who had been reduced to a condition of nervous 
anxiety from the moment that this new duty was thrust 
upon him. 

“ You are aware, gentlemen, that Sir Richard Harring- 
ton is a private friend of mine,” said the marquess. 

Mr. Paterson of the Home Office was aware of that. 
So was Mr. Gregg, the Treasury Solicitor. But this was 
a case so important, and an inquiry so delicate, that the 
higher authorities had thought it best to include Lord 
Cheviot among the Commissioners in preference to select- 
ing any other magistrate. 

“ Still, it makes the business a very painful one to me, 
as you will allow,” said the marquess, who felt excessively 
as if he had suddenly been raised among the judges of a 
revolutionary tribunal. 

Mr. Gregg it was who acted as chief of the staff, and 
organized the plan of campaign. He had his scheme cut 


174 


THE LADY E GEE I A ; 


and dried. The marquess was asked to write a note re- 
questing Sir Richard’s presence on urgent affairs at the 
Wortham hotel. Already a dogcart was waiting with a 
messenger to hurry over to Greystone with the missive. 

Of course the marquess demurred He thought, though 
he did not say so, that he was being made to play the 
part of decoy duck as well as judge. But Mr. Gregg, 
and Mr. Paterson too, had such valid reasons to allege 
that he was over-persuaded. 

It was the only way, they very sensibly said, to prevent 
scandal, if it could be prevented. Much, very much, 
would depend on Sir Richard being able to give satisfac- 
tory replies to questions that must be put It was better 
to see him at the Rose and Crown, on neutral ground, as 
it were, than to pursue the interrogatory under his own 
roof at Greystone Abbey. The marquess, therefore, 
reluctantly wrote what he was asked to write, and the dog- 
cart rattled off with the note, which had been entrusted to 
no less careful a messenger than Inspector Fielder from 
Scotland Yard. 

There was a dreary period of waiting. Mr. Paterson 
tried to utilize it by getting the marquess to read the 
depositions. But the marquess would not read the 
deposition' 

“ Thank you — thank you,” he said, sidling away from 
the formidable array of documents ; “ I have from the 
Secretary of State’s letters a general idea of the case ; and, 
for the moment, prefer to let the details alone. I do hope, 
though, that the poor fellow may be able to clear himself.” 

“ I echo the wish, I am sure,” said Mr. Paterson, who 
was a scholar and a gentleman. 

So did not, of course, two other persons of our acquain- 
tance, who were shut up together in a private room down- 
stairs, waiting till they should be wanted. One of these 
was Jasper Holt, solicitor-at-law, who had journeyed down 
with the members of the Commission. The other was 
Mavina Malstock, who had returned home but the day 
before from her pleasant London visit to her old school- 
mate, Jemima Crockford, and who now sat, closely veiled 
and silent, in the corner farthest from the window of the 
little ground-floor parlor into which she had been ushered. 
It goes without saying that Doctor and Mrs. Malstock 
were still quite in ignorance of Mavina’s real object in 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


175 

visiting London, or of the nature of the interest which she 
took in the affairs of the baronet. 

Throughout the Rose and Crown there was an uneasy 
feeling of feverish expectancy. The very waiter and 
chambermaids were in a state of disquiet, partly caused by 
the presence of the police from London ; while the land- 
lady, worthy creature, felt as though a gang of Nihilist 
conspirators had chosen her respectable hotel for their 
headquarters. Who were these mysterious strangers from 
London, who had the chief constable under their orders, 
and at whose summons the Lord Lieutenant of the shire 
had come to join their conclave ? 

Mrs. Sharland’s most plausible guess was that the 
matter was somehow connected with the parliamentary 
representation of borough or county, or both. But, if so, 
why was the marquess evoked from Hurst Royal, and 
were the sitting members to be impeached for high treason 
and sent through the Traitor’s Gate, and perhaps eventually 
to Tower Hill ? 

Meanwhile, among those better informed as to the busi- 
ness pending, tnere was very little conversation going on. 
Major Reynolds, the Indian expert, read the newspaper 
in a corner. Dr. Hope had pulled out his pocket book, 
and was knitting his shaggy brows over the memoranda it 
contained. The Treasury Solicitor busied himself in 
sorting out papers and preparing for what was to come. 
The marquess paced to and fro, drumming on the window 
glass with his fingers, and then walking back to beat what 
Major Reynolds afterwards designated as the “ devil’s 
tattoo ” upon the huge mahogany table. 

Mr. Paterson went in and out, now exchanging a few 
words with the chief constable, waiting by himself below ; 
now speaking in an undertone to the sergeant of detec- 
tives, who, with his men, were in a room at the back ; and 
then attempting to discuss matters with the marquess, who 
had never in his life felt more completely out of his 
element. 

It was a relief to all when the sharp sound of hurrying 
hoofs and wheels announced the return of the messenger 
from Greystone. Mr. Gregg, the Treasury Solicitor, who 
had bustled forward to the window at the first sound, 
came eagerly to meet Mr. Paterson, his colleague, who had 
just re-entered the room. 


176 


THE LADY EGF.RIA ; 


“ Here he is ! ” whispered the government lawyer to the 
official from the Home Office ; “ I caught a glimpse of him 
as he drove under the archway : a tall, fair-haired young 
man. He must have come over in the dogcart, as I ex- 
pected, with Inspector Fielder. Nothing could be neater.” 
And, indeed, a moment afterwards, the name of Sir 
Richard Harrington was announced by a perceptibly 
frightened waiter, and the owner of the name came in. He 
started, and looked with surprise at the strange faces 
around him ; then smiled, and with a slight bow passed on 
to where the marquess stood, the very picture of 
perplexity. 

“ Lucky I was at home, Lord Cheviot, when your note 
reached me,” said the baronet, holding out his hand. 

The marquess had not the moral courage to reject that 
offered hand, red with blood unfairly shed though it was 
deemed to be ; so he took it, but stiffly and with a very 
bad grace, so that Sir Richard, glancing at his old friend’s 
gloomy countenance, had reason to remark — 

“ Something wrong, I am afraid ? ” 

“You had better let these gentlemen explain what is 
amiss,” replied the marquess, almost with a sob in his 
kind old voice ; “ I, for one, am a most unwilling actor in 
all this.” 

“ Ours is a painful duty, Sir Richard, although we are 
total strangers to yourself,” said urbane Mr. Paterson, 
tendering his card ; “ I may as well mention at once that 
Mr. Gregg, one of the Solicitors for the Treasury, Dr. Hope, 
Major Reynolds, and myself, with the Marquess of Cheviot 
here, have been officially appointed as commissioners to 
conduct an inquiry, and that we have been compelled at 
the outset to request your presence here.” 

“ To answer a few questions,” said Mr. Gregg, com- 
pleting the sentence, as he saw his colleague hesitate. 

Sir Richard had drawn himself up to his full height. He 
threw a half-reproachful glance at the marquess, and then 
bowed coldly to the strangers. 

“ This comes on me as a surprise,” he said calmly ; “ but 
I am quite at your service, gentlemen. May I ask, first, 
to what the inquiry refers? ” 

“ Certainly, sir, certainly,” replied Mr. Gregg, rustling 
among the papers that lay ready to his hand. “ The 
inquiry, Sir Richard, has reference to the death, in India, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT . 


1 77 


of a British subject named Walter Travis, with whom you 
are alleged — I say only alleged — to have had a hostile dis- 
cussion on the evening that preceded the day on which— 
other events are said to have occurred.” 

“ I never, to my knowledge, saw such a man during my 
stay in India, and most assuredly had no discussion, 
hostile or otherwise, with him,” boldly replied the baronet. 

The old Indian officer threw a compassionate glance at 
the young lord of Greystone. 

“ Caution is better than rashness in these cases, Sir 
Richard,” he said. “ You had better consult your memory. 
The testimony of the Parsee landlord and the Eurasian 
billiard marker is very explicit as to the time, place, and 
nature of the dispute, which you appear to have for- 
gotten.” 

Sir Richard shook his head. 

“ Your words, Major Reynolds,” he said almost sullenly, 
“ are an enigma to me. I repeat that I was not acquainted 
with the person you speak of.” 

“ Not even by name, Sir Richard ? ” asked the Treasury 
Solicitor, who had been eyeing him keenly, and who 
noticed how the tell-tale color rose and fell in his fair face. 

“ Confound his name — I know it well enough,” broke 
out the baronet, irritably ; “ malicious tongues have been 
busy in coupling his name with mine — I know not why 
— ever since I left India. But still I had no personal 
acquaintance with the bearer of the name.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Mr. Gregg, smoothly, “ a mere casual 
encounter.” 

“ I tell you,” interrupted Sir Richard, hotly, “ that, 
casually or not, I had no dealings — no intercourse — with 
such a man.” 

This dogged and repeated denial seemed to render it 
useless to press the questioning any further. After a 
brief colloquy with Mr. Paterson, the Solicitor to the 
Treasury spoke again. 

“ I think, and so does my colleague,” he said, “ that the 
fairest plan, now, will be to read aloud, in the presence of 
Sir Richard, the body of written evidence which has been 
obtained from India, and which has been the ground for 
these proceedings. If you will kindly be seated, Sir 
Richard, and will oblige me by listening, I will undertake 
this task. We shall see our way the quicker then.” 

12 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


178 

Sir Richard, a defiant look in his eyes, drew up a chair, sat 
down, and, with folded arms, waited, while Mr. Gregg select- 
ed a paper, and began to read aloud. As he did so, detail- 
ing, piece by piece, the evidence from Futtehpore, the mar- 
quess sat apart from the London Commissioners, and 
appeared, if the simile can be decorously applied to a 
kindly old gentleman of high degree, as uncomfortable 
as a bear on hot irons. When a certain point had been 
reached, Mr. Gregg laid down the budget of papers. 

“ If you have any comments to make, Sir Richard, or 
explanations to give, the Commission will give them due 
attention,” said the Treasury Solicitor. 

“ It is all very unreasonable, to my mind,” answered 
the baronet; “I have heard, in what you have just read, 
names known to me mixed up with events of which I have 
no recollection, or as to which I can give a flat denial. I 
know, or knew an officer of my own Lancer regiment 
called Graham. We were intimate. I saw his death very 
recently announced in a newspaper. But he never 
was my second in any duel, regular or not. And I had a 
native servant, a valet, or mussaulchee, called Govind. 
He was, as I had cause to suspect, dishonest, and I intend- 
ed to discharge him. As for the name of the Syce, it 
has escaped my memory. But the story these black 
fellows tell is all moonshine. Of Walter Travis, if he ever 
existed, I know nothing. As for my meeting him at day- 
break with pistols in the jungle, I can only say that the 
whole thing is a fable. I wish I knew who has dared to 
malign me, I assure you. I have an agent, now in India, 
who will, I trust, be able to trace these lying reports to 
their source.” 

u Perhaps he may,” responded, drily, the experienced 
Mr. Gregg. 

“I think now, gentlemen, that we may venture to request 
the attendance of the living witnesses waiting below — of 
Miss Malstock and Mr. Holt, I mean !” 

Sir Richard and Lord Cheviot started. 

“ Miss Malstock!” exclaimed the marquess; “why, 
what on earth can that young lady have to do with what 
happened out in India, where she never was ? ” 

The Treasury Solicitor smiled at the simplicity of the 
question. 

“You are quite correct, my lord,” he said, “and of 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


179 


India, save by hearsay, Miss Malstock knows nothing. 
But her evidence on one point has been thought important 
enough to make her presence necessary ; ” and as he spoke 
he rang the bell twice. The signal had probably been pre- 
concerted, since, after a brief delay, the door opened, and 
Jasper Holt, without waiting for any one to announce him, 
made his entrance unabashed, in company with Mavina, 
still veiled. Sir Richard rose from his chair. “ How is 
this, sir?” he said, addressing Mr. Holt in a voice quiver- 
ing with rage ; “ I thought you were some thousands of 
miles away attending to my interests, and instead of that 
I find that you have come sneaking back to England with- 
out a word of excuse, and are now leaguing with my 
enemies ! Is that your idea, Mr. Holt, of a lawyer’s duty 
to a client and paymaster? ” 

There was a moment when it seemed as if Sir Richard, 
whose excitement increased as he spoke, would certainly 
strike Jasper Holt, who, on his part, maintained an atti- 
tude of coolness and sturdy defiance, and met, unflinch- 
ingly, the angry gaze of his indignant employer. But 
Maj or Reynolds and Mr. Paterson were quick to intervene, 
and their interference gave the baronet time to curb his 
first furious impulse 

He turned away scornfully, and reseated himself. He 
had had time to reflect, and saw that mere violence, whether 
of word or deed, could but injure his cause. He took no 
further notice of the Wortham lawyer, but sat watchfully 
and silently, as if preparing for the worst. Mavina, from 
behind her veil, eyed him with a glance of malignant 
triumph. 

There he was, brought to bay, entrapped, with heavy 
odds against him, no longer fortune’s favorite, but an 
object of obloquy and suspicion. There he was, accused 
of the crime committed so far away, this murderer of her 
lost lover, and she so gloried in her own share in bringing 
about his ruin and disgrace that she entirely forgot the 
presence of the Marquess of Cheviot, or the opinion which 
that nobleman might form of his daughter’s humble friend. 
She, too, waited while Mr. Gregg, bustling up to the table, 
made a fresh arrangement of the papers and cleared his 
throat to speak. The proceedings were manifestly about 
to entei on a new phase. 


i8o 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 




CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE RUBY RING. 

“ I will now,” said, after a brief pause, tne Solicitor to 
Her Majesty’s Treasury, “ proceed to read out Miss Mal- 
stock’s deposition, taken down, signed, and attested offi- 
cially in London.” 

Mr. Gregg looked around him as he spoke. There was 
no dissent ; so he proceeded to do as he had proposed. 

Mavina’s written statement produced a powerful effect 
on those who now heard it for the first time. The mar- 
quess groaned audibly. Sir Richard winced like a 
thorough-bred horse under a whip stroke. 

“ You are at perfect liberty, Sir Richard, to ask the wit- 
ness any questions you think fit,” said the Treasury Soli- 
citor. 

The baronet shook his head sullenly. He could not, 
for his very life, frame the words in which to address Ma- 
vina, who had now put up her veil, and looked at him with 
absolute composure. 

“ Or, of course, to enter into any explanation as regards 
the ring and the scene at Hurst Royal,” suggested Mr. 
Paterson, very gently. 

“That,” replied the baronet, in a dogged tone that 
grated on the ear, “ I am willing to do. I have such a ring 
as — as Miss Malstock has described. Here it is.” 

He drew it forth from his waistcoat pocket as he spoke, 
and laid it on the table. 

All eyes turned, naturally, towards the glittering gewgaw, 
which Mr. Gregg quietly picked up, examined, and then 
handed it round among the Commissioners, all of whom, 
save the marquess, scrutinized it carefully and with 
interest. 

“ Yes, yes ; Indian workmanship, sure enough. I could 
have told as much, had I been blind, by the mere touch,” 
remarked Major Reynolds. “ A strange device too, with 
the snake’s golden coils going round the three rubies, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


1S1 


as that young lady very accurately told us. Perhaps Sir 
Richard will inform us how this curious ring first passed 
into his possession ? ” 

“ I took it,” answered Sir Richard, in the same harsh, 
dull voice, “ from the finger of my poor dead brother, 
Lionel Harrington, as he lay in his bier, awaiting the arri- 
val of the workmen who were to close the coffin. He died, 
as some of you may be aware, under strange circum- 
stances. He and I, with several more, fell into an ambush 
of lurking natives as we were escorting treasure through 
the jungle. I escaped, unhurt, by a miracle, as it seemed, 
amidst the flashing sword blades ; but poor Lionel was 
either made prisoner by the robbers, or eluded them, and 
got lost in the forest, and there sickened of cholera, then 
raging in the district. He was quite dead and cold when 
we were led to the charcoal burners’ hut, where his body 
lay.” 

“ Then why, Sir Richard, did you drop no hint of this 
when Miss Malstock asked you whence you had the ring 
at Hurst Royal ? ” demanded Mr. Gregg. 

The baronet turned towards him with a sickly smile. 

“ Perhaps I was foolishly sentimental, sir,” he said ; 
“ but I was reluctant to breathe poor Lionel’s name in con- 
versing with yonder lady, with whom my acquaintance was 
very slight. I said I had it from a friend who died in 
India.” 

“ And you would affirm on oath, Sir Richard, that this 
ring was one taken from the finger of Sir Lionel, your late 
brother ? ” said the solicitor. 

The baronet nodded assent. 

“Miss Malstock, on the other hand, is prepared to 
swear that the ring — well known to her — belonged to Wal- 
ter Travis, whose mother had worn it before it became 
his ? ” demanded Mr. Gregg. 

“Anywhere — in any court of justice” — said Mavina, 
firmly, “ can I swear to that ring, which I have seen fifty 
times or more on the finger of its late owner, Walter Travis. 
I recognized it instantly when I saw it on that of his mur- 
derer.” 

There was a stir and a little confusion here. The mar- 
quess lifted up his voice in protest. So did — more mildly 
— Mr. Gregg. 

“.Let us avoid strong expressions, if you please, Miss 


182 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Malstock, though we can all make the utmost allowance 
for excited feelings,” he said. “ This is a mere inquiry ; 
not a trial at bar. I propose, now, to read aloud the 
remainder of the Indian evidence.” 

He did so, slowly and emphatically, exhibiting the diary 
of the late Lieutenant Graham, with its memorandum as to 
the alleged meeting in the jungle, and then going on to the 
evidence of Lashgar, the native carpenter, as to the iden- 
tity of the body that lay on the bed in Captain Harring- 
ton’s quarters, and which he helped to lift into the coffin, 
with that of his former customer, Walter Travis. 

And then, indeed, a remarkable change came over Sir 
Richard. 

Hitherto he had seemed downcast, indeed, but sullen, 
and at times haughtily indignant. Now he grew ashen 
white, and grasped his chair with tremulous hands, while 
his eyes appeared as if they beheld some horrid vision un- 
seen by the rest. Once he lifted his head and inclined his 
ear, as the deaf do, to hear more distinctly. And when 
Mr. Gregg ceased to read, and asked him, courteously, if 
he had any queries to put to Mr. Holt, or any observa- 
tions to offer, he only turned his face towards the Treasury 
Solicitor without speaking. 

“ Take time, Sir Richard,” said the considerate Mr. 
Paterson. 

Twice the baronet opened his livid lips and tried to 
speak, but no sound followed. 

Dr. Hope bent his shaggy brows, and looked at him 
frown ingly. The old Anglo-Indian officer looked sad ; 
perhaps because of the discredit thrown on the profession 
of arms. Even the marquess recoiled a little, and pursed 
up his lips. 

# “ These are, you must admit, Sir Richard, very suspi- 
cious circumstances,” said the Treasury Solicitor ; “ and 
we should all be glad if you could explain them away ; but, 
if not, other steps must be taken. We, the Commis- 
sioners, are animated by no sort of animosity against your- 
self, as your words, lately, indicated that you thought ; nor 
has this inquiry been conducted in a hostile spirit. We 
should rejoice were your innocence of any guilty knowl- 
edge as to the fate of Walter Travis once made clear. But, 
if not, we must do our duty.” 

“ Am I to understand, then, that I am formally accused 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


183 

of the murder of this man, Walter Travis ? ” demanded the 
baronet. 

“ You are ! \ ou are ! ” exclaimed Mavina and Jasper, 
at once. 

Sir Richard started as if a wasp had stung him. 

“And am I to consider myself, a prisoner, then?” he 
demanded of Mr. Gregg. 

I he Treasury Solicitor told him, in smooth language, 
that he did not occupy such a position, but that it would 
be well, on every account, that he should remain at hand 
and lend whatever assistance he could to further the in- 
quiry. There might, too, be documents or letters at Grey- 
stone Abbey which would aid in throwing light upon the 
truth. 

Sir Richard smiled bitterly. 

“ My keys, and all that is mine,” he said, briefly, “ shall 
be at your disposal, gentlemen. Search where you will, 
read what you please, since your official duty compels it. 
1 presume that I shall be free to consult legal advisers, 
since my late agent betrayed me.” 

“ Excuse me, Sir Richard, if I rise to vindicate myself,” 
said Jasper, plausibly. “ I repudiate the word ‘ betrayed,’ 
and assure you that when I found the real complexion of 
the case, which was not at the outset, public feeling and 
conscience urged me to reveal to the proper authorities 
such discoveries as my journey to India enabled me to 
make. Of the sums received from you, I am ready, at the 
right moment, to render a strict account. But I was no 
hireling to hush up a dark secret like yours, merely to 
curry favor with a client of yesterday ! ’ 

This was very well said, but, somehow, it rang false on 
every ear, save that of Mavina, intent on her revenge. 

Sir Richard only answered by a scowl and a sneer, while 
Mr. Paterson made haste to assure him that he was wel- 
come to call in any professional aid he pleased. 

“ We now,” said Dr. Hope, speaking for the first time, 
“ have a very important portion of our task before us, and 
had better attend to it at once, the rather that both Mr. 
Paterson and myself are required, according to our en- 
gagements, to be back in London to-morrow afternoon. I 
allude to the necessary identification of the body brought 
home to Greystone from India as that of the late Sir 
Lionel Plarringtom However distressing to the feelings of 
the living, we must do our duty as regards the dead.” 


184 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Again Sir Richard’s cheek blanched as before, and his 
eyes seemed to glare into vacancy, as if he saw what was 
invisible to others. But he recovered his presence of mind, 
and in a cold and haughty tone demanded what was meant. 
He was at a loss, so he declared, as to the purport of the 
words uttered. 

Mr. Gregg coughed and fidgeted with the papers before 
he took upon himself the task of explanation. 

“Sir Richard Harrington,” he said, “if you will put 
yourself, for a moment, in our place, I think you will ad- 
mit that our obvious duty is to make sure that the body of 
your predecessor in the title, brought from India, and in- 
terred at Greystone, is really that of the late Sir Lionel. 
There are grounds for surmising that such is not the case. 
It is possible that the remains brought home to England 
may be those of another person. At any rate, it is impe- 
rative that the truth should be ascertained. With this 
view, it seems needful that the family vault at Greystone 
church should be opened, and the body enclosed in the 
coffin of your late brother, Sir Richard, identified by com- 
petent testimony.” 

“ Open a vault — a coffin ! Really, Mr. Gregg, your 
suggestion shocks me,” said the good-natured marquess, 
while the baronet sat speechless, turning his haggard eyes 
from one face to another, and with a sort of twitching of 
his dry lips. 

“ On second thoughts,” said Mr. Paterson, persuasively, 
“ I think your lordship will perceive the necessity for such 
a course, which has already received the explicit sanction 
of the Secretary of State. Every care will be taken, my 
lord, to spare Sir Richard’s feelings, and the search will be 
decorously, and indeed reverently, made, but none the less 
must it occur. The evidence of the Hindoo carpenter, 
Lashgar, as to the apparent substitution of one body for 
another, at Futtehpore, forces us to ascertain what corpse 
was really buried at Greystone.” 

“And if there could have been any doubt as to our 
plain duty,” added Mr. Gregg, “ I think his lordship will 
acknowledge that Sir Richard’s own statement makes it 
doubly imperative to make the vault give up its secret. 
Sir Richard has told us that he took the ruby ring from the 
finger of his dead brother, Lionel, in India. Miss Mal- 
stock deposes to the ring as having been constantly worn 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


185 

by Walter Travis, the missing man, into whose death, by 
alleged foul play, we are here to inquire. And Lashgar, 
the native carpenter, has sworn that the corpse he helped 
to place in the coffin was that of his well-known customer, 
Walter Travis. Under these circumstances, and as two of 
the Commissioners have to return to London early to- 
morrow, we propose to have the vault at Greystone opened 
to-night.” 

To-night!” echoed Sir Richard, who spoke and 
looked as if he were under the influence of some hideous 
dream, while even the marquess stood aghast 

u To-night ! ” he said, almost gaspingly ; i( vou may 
believe me, gentlemen, when I tell you that this is to me 
the most distressing piece of duty that has ever fallen to 
my lot. But I suppose it must be done.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE OPENING OF THE VAULT. 

The marquess had at last made up his mind. He would 
not be active, but he would throw no impediment in the 
way of the working members of the Commission. And 
indeed he could not but, in his heart of hearts, own that 
the circumstances were such as to warrant fearful suspi- 
cions. while the bearing of the accused was such as to con- 
firm the prejudice against him. 

He still hoped that the son of his old friend might clear 
himself of the vile charges laid at his door, but he could 
not take up the cudgels in defence of one whose nerves or 
conscience made him so unfit to assert his innocence as the 
baronet appeared to be 

Candles were rung for, as it was now growing quite 
dark, and refreshments were brought in for those who 
needed them. Carriages had already been ordered for the 
transport of the party, and of the auxiliaries, to Greystone. 
The chief constable had been requested to get together 
some of his men, under the charge of a superintendent. 

The London detectives had by this time enlisted the 
services of some Wortham workmen, who were ready, 
with their tools, and with a store of lanterns and torches, 


THE LADY EGER/A ; 


1 86 

since it would be black night when Greystone should be 
reached. 

This was not all. Sir Richard, somewhat tardily, had 
requested that his father’s solicitors should be sent for. 
The Crown Street office of the firm was near, and old Mr. 
Tatham, whose dwelling adjoined it, soon came, and was 
speedily joined by his junior partner, Mr. Gudge. 

These two lespectable lawyers, who had for many years 
transacted business for the Harrington family, undertook 
to watch the proceedings on the young baronet’s behalf. 
They were horror-stricken, but stout in their adherence to 
the cause of so hereditary a client, the rather, perhaps, 
since Jasper Holt, who was gall and wormwood to them 
professionally, was conspicuous on the opposite side. 
Also, by the advice of Dr. Hope, three of the local medical 
men were summoned, to act as experts and referees. Of 
these, one was Dr. Malstock ; another a certain Dr. Bed- 
ford, in good practice, and who was known to have 
attended the late Admiral Travis and his wife, and who 
was, therefore, probably acquainted with their son ; the 
third was a clever young surgeon, Mr. Thompson. 

Some time was lost in collecting these new recruits, and 
in giving them a brief explanation of the reason for their 
being asked to attend. And Dr. Malstock had to learn, 
for the first time, his daughter’s connection with the case, 
and to send a note to his wife-, bidding her not to be 
alarmed at Mavina’s prolonged absence 

It was quite an imposing array of carriages, gigs and 
light carts which at length set off for Greystone. 

Some little stir had been caused, even in quiet Wortham, 
by the stealthy bustle that had been going on ; and there 
was quite a crowd gathered to stare at the procession of 
vehicles that left the Rose and Crown. 

Some of the boys even followed on foot, or getting a 
lift, illicitly, behind some carriage; and among these 
was the lad called Jerry. Inspector Fielder had made a 
second journey in the dogcart, and had apprised the 
Vicar of Greystone of the intention of those in authority, 
so that when the old church was reached the incumbent 
of the parish was waiting in the vestry for the Commis- 
sioners from London, and the sexton had thrown open the 
church door, and was ready to assist in carrying out the 
work in hand. 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


187 


Sundry of the villagers, too, strayed in, so that the 
darkling aisles were full of people, surging to and fro, and 
overflowing into the chancel, and still more into what was 
locally styled the Harrington chapel, the oldest part of the 
existing church, and in which were monuments and brasses 
not a few commemorating the long dead. 

A strange scene it was, and one never to be forgotten 
by the more thoughtful of those present, as the ruddy 
gleam of the lighted torches fell on tomb and statue, and 
on the empty shrine that was yet traceable in the thick 
wall, but before which waxlights had not burned, nor 
votive offerings been heaped, for more than three centuries 
past. The red glare of the light fell, too, on the rough 
pavement, on the sepulchral brasses, and on the pale faces 
of those who gathered round the workmen as they busied 
themselves with crowbar, pick, and chisel, ' in clearing 
away the cement and raising the stone that blocked the 
entrance to the vault below. 

Palest among these was the fair young face of Sir 
Richard, as he stood, sullen and despondent, a little apart 
from the rest. The London detectives, though they kept 
in the background, watched him narrowly ; Inspector 
Fielder, mechanically, as it were, fingered a pair of steel 
somethings, that clinked faintly, in the right-hand pocket 
of his overcoat, and exchanged glances with Sergeant 
Flint, in whose expressive eyes he read committal and 
remand and all the formularies of British justice. 

At last the huge stone was lifted, and the broad, shal- 
low steps that led down into the gloomy vault were 
perceptible, while from below seemed to rise a moist and 
clammy vapor, in which even the red glare of the blazing 
torches became pallid and dim. Then, led by the sexton, 
the party of workmen who had been brought from Wortham 
descended, and after some delay reappeared, carrying, by 
their united efforts, a weighty burthen, with which they 
staggered up the steps. 

The bearers laid down their load upon the stone pave- 
ment near the Crusader’s tomb. There could be no doubt 
as to the accuracy of their choice. Time had not had 
time to tarnish the crimson velvet, nor to dim the bright- 
ness of the silver-gilt plates that bore the name and date 
of the death, as well as the heraldic insignia, of young Sir 
Lionel. 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


1 88 

Then the masons fell back, and other craftsmen pro- 
ceeded to unfasten the paraphernalia of lead and iron and 
velvet-covered wood, within which are encased the remains 
of the wealthy and the proud. 

This, slowly and decorously performed, was a work of 
time, and next there was to unwind and open the shroud, 
and to lay bare to view the lineaments of the dead. 

There was a moment of hushed expectancy, of awe- 
stricken silence, and then a piercing female shriek broke 
the stillness, as Mavina Malstock darted forward, and fell 
on her knees beside the open coffin, sobbing wildly. 

“ My poor Walter! Yes, it is Walter’s face!” she 
moaned out. “ I know him now — should know him any- 
where — here he lies — dead — murdered ! ” 

There was a general murmur of sympathy, horror and 
indignation among those present. All were shocked, 
although the suspicions of many were but confirmed. Dr. 
Malstock hastened forward to draw his weeping daughter 
aside, entreating her to be calm ; but she continued, in a 
wailing tone, to repeat her assurance that the body just 
revealed to sight was that of Walter Travis. 

The countenance of the dead man had indeed changed 
very little since the day of interment. The tint of the skin 
was darkened, and the features wore a slight expression 
as of pain, but were quite recognizable. 

Robert Malstock, M.R.C.S., after a short inspection, 
quite agreed with Mr. Philip Bedford, M.D., in affirming 
that the marble face before them was that, not of Sir 
Lionel Harrington, whom they had known by sight, but of 
Walter Travis, who had been still better known to both 
while still among the living. Even the young surgeon, 
Mr. Thompson, though less confidently, declared his 
recognition of the only son of the late Admiral Travis, 
formerly a resident of Swaffam Regis, near Wortham, and 
a member of the cricket club. 

“ Will Sir Richard Harrington, after this, persist in 
denying his knowledge of the deceased, Walter Travis ? ” 
asked Mr. Gregg, more sternly than he had spoken as yet. 
All eyes were turned upon the baronet, who stood there, 
bareheaded and pale, in the full glare of the torchlight. 
All present waited, eagerly, for his reply, but none came, 
save from Mr. Gudge, the family lawyer, with whom Sir 
Richard had previously exchanged some words in an 
undertone. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


iS 9 

u Our client,” said Mr. Gudge, “ prefers to reserve his 
defence. I am authorized to state on his behalf that he 
affirms his own innocence, as to bringing about the death 
of AValter Travis, but he is unable at .present to say more.” 

There was again a murmur among the bystanders. The 
marquess compressed his lips and frowned. The other 
members of the Commission looked at one another, and 
conferred in whispers. Sir Richard, rolling his haggard 
eyes around the gathered groups, read condemnation in 
every face, and pity in but two of the countenances on 
which his glance rested. One of these belonged to the 
noble owner of Hurst Royal ; the other, oddly enough, to 
the lad Jerry, who had held his horse when first he 
dropped in at Mr. Holt’s office in Mill Lane, and who was 
in the act of whispering to another stripling of the same 
dubious aspect that he was “ sorry to see the governor in 
Queer Street.” 

“ That the body before our eyes is not that of Sir 
Lionel Harrington, and that it is that of Walter Travis, we 
may safely assume,” said Mr. Gregg, aloud ; nor was this 
statement contradicted. Even Mr. Gudge, as spokesman 
for the firm, only ventured on the feeblest of protests, 
which he presently withdrew. Sir Richard had folded his 
arms, and, leaning against a pillar, looked sullenly at the 
ground, and said nothing. His bearing, as even the mar- 
quess admitted to himself, was that of a criminal brought 
to bay. Mr. Gregg waited awhile, perhaps to avoid 
appearing unduly prejudiced by the demeanor of the 
accused person, and then continued : — 

“This being established, a coroner’s inquest, in due 
course of law, must be held, and a verdict, leading to 
ultimate proceedings, found as to the cause of death. It 
will, however, be the immediate duty of the Commission 
to ascertain, by the usual post-mortem examination, whether 
the appearance of the remains bears out the suspicion of 
homicidal violence, which has occasioned the appointment 
of ourselves to inquire into the matter. The body, there- 
fore, if there be no objection, had better be removed to 
the vestry, where the inspection can take place, and the 
medical evidence will then guide us as to our next step. 

That step, so all anticipated, would surely be the arrest 
and commitment of Sir Richard Harrington. He was not, 
as yet, formally in custody, but his every movement was 


190 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


watched, and his escape impossible. Silver-haired Mr. 
Tatham, senior in the firm, looked almost as hopeless 
and bewildered as the marquess himself ; but Mr. Gudge, 
who was by far the younger of the two, kept his presence 
of mind, and put in a word for his client’s supposed 
interests whenever he got the chance. 

The vicar’s consent being obtained, the coffin was 
carried into the vestry, where Dr. Hope, with the three 
local doctors, entered ; the lay members of the Commis- 
sion remaining where they were, in front of the rilled 
mausoleum. 

Chairs had been brought out for their accommodation, 
and all sat down, save Sir Richard, who chose to remain in 
his former attitude, leaning against the pillar, and seeming 
to pay but slight attention to his legal adviser, Mr. Gudge, 
who hovered near, and frequently addressed him in a low 
tone. 

The police kept in the background, while the number of 
spectators, swelled now by servants or hangers-on from the 
Abbey, rapidly augmented, so that there was soon as dense 
a congregation as ever mustered there on a fine Sunday in 
summer. 

The marquess kept quite aloof from his brethren of the 
Commission, and talked to none but Mr. Tatham, whom 
he knew well. Mavina, whom her father had left in one 
of the high-backed pews of the chancel near, and who was 
thus beyond the verge of the flickering torchlight, crouched 
in a corner, sobbing from time to time, but ever and anon 
lifting her head, and throwing a keen, anxious glance 
towards the closed door of the vestry. Mr. Paterson, 
Major Reynolds, and the Treasury Solicitor conversed in 
whispers, while Inspector Fielder, ensconced behind a 
pillar opposite to that against which the baronet leaned, 
marked every movement of Mr. Gregg’s eye, and awaited 
orders. 

Presently the vestry door opened, and Dr. Hope, looking 
very serious, came forth alone, and joined the little knot of 
expectant Commissioners. There was some colloquy, 
and then Mr. Paterson advanced towards the marquess. 

“I must ask your lordship,” he said, “ as a responsible 
member of this Commission, kindly to give your attention 
to the report of the medical experts. These gentlemen, 
also, on Sir Richard’s behalf, are quite welcome to hear 


OR, BROUGH'l TO LIGHT. 


191 

what Dr. Hope— whose name, you are perhaps aware, 
stands very high in his profession — has to tell us.” 

In company with Messrs. Tatham and Gudge, the mar- 
quess approached the group, and it was towards him that 
the great doctor turned his beetling brows and piercing 
eyes as he said — 

a We have made a hasty, and I may say a cursory, 
examination of the remains. The immediate cause of 
death, in our opinion, was exhaustion consequent on that 
fell disease, cholera, which was confessedly raging at 
Futtehpore, just about the time of the death of Sir Lionel, 
according to his brother’s story, of the same virulent dis- 
order.” 

“ Then I submit that my client is innocent — demon- 
strably so ! ” — put in Mr. Gudge. 

The marquess looked as much relieved as if he had 
received a deputation from the still rebellious colliers of 
Silverseam, craving peace and amity. 

“ Not quite ! ” grimly rejoined Dr. Hope ; “ unless he 
can account for a deep gun-shot wound, still imperfectly 
healed, and therefore of very recent date, in the neighbor- 
hood of the right shoulder of the dead man ; and the pain 
and fever caused by which, in that climate, probably pre- 
disposed the sufferer to sink beneath a sudden attack of 
cholera, the germs of which might not impossibly have 
been lurking in the system at the time of the so-called duel 
in the jungle.” 

“The duel in which, as the diary of his own second 
avers, ‘ H. fired first ! ’ ” said Major Reynolds. 

“You are quite sure, sir, of what you have just told 
us ? ” asked the marquess. 

“ We are all four quite unanimous, my lord,” replied the 
surgeon. “The wound from which the probe shows that 
the ball has not been extracted, must have been caused by 
a bullet from a large-bored weapon, such as a duelling 
pistol ; certainly not an ordinary revolver. The bleeding 
must have been considerable, and the treatment, I shall 
pronounce, careless or unskillful. Its recent date is proved 
by the fact that the cicatrice remains imperfect.” 

Mr. Gregg threw a glance towards watchful Inspector 
Fielder. 

“ I am afraid, my lord, after what we have heard, only 
one course remains to us.” 


192 


THE LADY EGERTA ; 


He drew a folded paper from his breast pocket as he 
spoke. 

“ 1 hold here a warrant, signed by the Secretary of State, 
for the apprehension of Sir Richard Harrington, on which, 
I need hardly add, immediate action can be taken ; but 
which/ perhaps, as a matter of etiquette, your lordship, as 
Lord Lieutenant of the County, will be good enough to 
indorse. The Commission, as such, has hitherto shown 
all forbearance and regard for the position of the suspected 
party ; but now we should not be justified in delaying the 
execution of the severest part of our mission.” 

“ You will take bail — bail for a large amount ? ” said 
Mr. Gudge, speaking to Mr. Gregg, but looking towards 
the marquess. 

“ Not for a moment to be thought of, sir, in such a case 
as this,” peremptorily replied the Solicitor to the Treasury. 
“ I am afraid, Sir Richard, that our duty compels us, in 
virtue of the authority which I here produce, to tell you 
to consider yourself in custody.” 

“ In the Queen’s name ! ” softly added Inspector Fielder, 
at the baronet’s elbow ; while another emissary from 
Scotland Yard glided up on the opposite side. 

“ Take me to gaol, then, as if I were a common felon ! ” 
said Sir Richard, resentfully. “ And yet I am innocent.” 

“We are not your judges,” quietly replied Mr. Gregg. 
“ There need be no harshness, no scandal, if it can be 
avoided. As it is so late, Sir Richard, I see no objection 
to your spending the rest of the night under your own 
roof, if you prefer it — of course, with proper precautions, 
and under the charge of the police. But I think it will be 
best, even for the sake of your own feelings, to bring this 
scene to a close.” 

And to this the baronet yielded a sullen assent. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


*93 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

UNDER ARREST. 

Some of those who had been listening and waiting, with 
greedy ears and eager eyes, in Greystone church, by the 
smoky glare of the unaccustomed torchlight, were disap- 
pointed that the strange scene of which they had been 
spectators should not have had an ending ostensibly tragic. 
They felt as might* the crowd in the old Roman arena had 
the gladiators marched in with sword and shield, with net 
and trident, with blast of trumpets and brazen clangor of 
cymbals, and then swept out again without actual blood- 
shed. 

True, a great crime had been brought to light. True, 
an ancient name had been disgraced, and a man of rank 
and lofty station dragged down to the level of ordinary 
offenders. But there had been no harshness, no hand- 
cuffs, no attempt at suicide, or resistance to the police. 

Detective Inspector Fielder, with Sergeant Flint and their 
attendant sprites from Scotland Yard, had done their min- 
istering gently. Beyond the utterance of that magic for- 
mula “ in the Queen’s name,” there had been no overt ar- 
rest. The baronet’s very coat sleeve had not been touched 
by an official finger. He had left the church, to all ap- 
pearance, as free as the other units of the dispersing crowd, 
the London police contenting themselves with hovering 
around him, and keeping near him as he walked away. 
He was accompanied as far as the Abbey by several of 
those who had been present at the disinterment of the body 
of Walter Travis. 

With Sir Richard, as in duty bound, went Messrs. 
Tatham and Gudge, the ornamental and the working part- 
ner in the steady-going old firm of family solicitors. 

With him, also, marched a party of the county consta- 
bulary, commanded by the lieutenant-colonel, who filled 
the post of Chief Constable of the Shire. Then there were 
the detectives from London, who knew that the Treasury 

13 


194 


THE LAD V EGER LA ; 


Solicitor relied mainly on their vigilance for the safe keep- 
ing of the prisoner. 

There was also Mr. Gregg himself, who deemed it in- 
cumbent on him, so to speak, to reconnoitre the ground, 
and plant his sentries, before retiring from the scene of 
action. 

The other members of the Commission had not though! 
it necessary to repair to the neighboring mansion. Mr. 
Paterson had lingered to say a civil word ofapology to the 
vicar for the trouble he had been compelled to give, and 
Dr. Hope to issue some orders with respect to the dispov 
sal of the coffin and its contents ; but ere long these two, 
with Major Reynolds and the medical experts, were able 
to step into the vehicles that were to convey them back to 
Wortham. 

The marquess had gone already. There was an inkstand 
in the vestry, and with its aid the noble owner of Hurst 
Royal had most reluctantly appended his signature to the 
formal warrant for Sir Richard’s arrest, and also to a report 
of the proceedings of the Commission. Then he had eiv 
tered the carriage that was in waiting for him, and 
returned to his own home, heavy hearted and malcon- 
tent. 

Mavina, too, had departed, in company with her father. 
Very few words were exchanged between them on their 
homeward drive. Mavina lay back in a corner of the car- 
riage, sobbing at intervals, while honest Robert Malstock 
was sorely puzzled as to how it behoved him to act or 
speak. He was, himself, as frank and open as the day, and 
there was something in his daughter’s duplicity that was to 
him eminently repugnant. He had been proud of his cle- 
ver girl, and now he began to doubt whether he had not 
more reason to be ashamed than proud of being the father 
of so artful a creature. 

It had been all a sham, then, the pretence of a pleasant 
holiday trip to London, and Jemima’s invitation a mere 
blind to lull suspicion to rest, for the accomplishment of a 
purpose of pure malignity. The good doctor felt hurt and 
shocked as he thought of this, and yet, somehow, the girl’s 
real grief, the depth and fire of her love for the dead Wal- 
ter, and of her hatred for his supposed murderer, disarmed 
his anger. He could not find it in his heart to scold her, 
so sat silent. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


*95 


The remainder of the assemblage broke up and returned, 
either to Wortham or to their own homes in the vicinity, 
and carried with them the intelligence, soon to spread over 
the district, of the identification of the corpse last lodged 
in the stately mausoleum at Greystone, and of the baronet’s 
arrest. 

That Sir Richard had committed a terrible crime the 
popular verdict, anticipating the slower action of a coro- 
ner’s jury, decided at once. That he must be found guilty 
before that ancient tribunal, and, ultimately, at the Assizes 
or at the Central Criminal Court, nobody dared to doubt. 

That gunshot wound, coupled with what little had oozed 
out as to a mock duel or homicidal affray in the depths of 
an Indian forest, was held conclusive proof against the 
baronet’s innocence. His dogged denial of any knowledge 
of the murdered man only added to the prejudice against 
him. 

The assertion that he was unacquainted with the very 
person whose lifeless remains he had fraudulently substi- 
tuted for those of his brother, was regarded as a mere 
insult to the understanding of the hearer, be he whom 
he might. 

Sir Richard had not been long enough a resident at 
Greystone to have won any solid good-will from those who 
dwelt within a few miles of his park palings. It so hap- 
pened that he had been, in his father’s lifetime, very little 
at home. Part of his education he had received in Ger- 
many ; and a military college, and the army, had kept him 
away from the old north-country mansion, where his elder 
brother had passed far more of his time than had been the 
case with the present wearer of the title. And now he seemed 
to be self-convicted, as it were, of the only crime for which 
our English justice yet exacts the tremendous penality of 
death, since, but for the bringing home of the body of 
Walter Travis, it would have been most difficult to sub- 
stantiate the accusation of murder. 

It was held that this was an example of the cunning that 
ends by over-reaching itself, and that the assassin’s extreme 
anxiety to hide the proofs of his guilt had furnished Ne- 
mesis with the surest means of bringing him within the 
clutches of the outraged law 

Meanwhile, the young lord of Greystone, under escort 
of his captors, and accompanied by the faithful firm of 


196 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


Crown Street, reached the ancestral mansion, under whose 
roof, as a matter of favor and not of right, he was to be 
allowed to sleep — perhaps for the last time. 

He had rallied somewhat from the first shock of the 
change in his position, and contrived, by the time he ar- 
rived at the Abbey, to assume a more dignified demeanor 
than lie had been able to exhibit when first misfortune 
came upon him. With a sad smile, he bade Mr. Gregg 
welcome to the Abbey. “ The house,” he said, “ and all 
that it contained, were quite at the service of the official 
visitor. The key of every room, press, cabinet, or chest 
should be at Mr. Gregg’s disposal should a search for do- 
cuments be considered necessary. The servants should 
have instructions to obey the behests of Mr. Gregg’s subor- 
dinates, and to provide whatever was wanted. Cellar, 
larder, and bedrooms were all at the command of the 
police.” 

“ I am too sensible,” said Sir Richard, “ of your consi- 
deration, Mr. Gregg, in treating me with some regard to 
the position which I occupy, not to afford every facility in 
my power for the execution of your duty. At the same 
time I reiterate my protest that I am innocent of that man’s 
blood, and trust that the day may not be far distant when 
I shall be absolved, even by those who are now loudest in 
their condemnation.” 

The hospitality of Greystone Abbey was accepted on 
behalf of Inspector Fielder and his detectives, and also of 
the local superintendent and three of his men. And Mr. 
Gregg, mindful of his official responsibilities, did not decline 
the proffered keys, somewhat to the disgust of Colonel Les- 
trange, the polite Chief Constable, who was not the equal 
in brain power of the cool Solicitor to the Treasury. 

“ Don’t you see, colonel,” explained Mr. Gregg, when 
he and the Chief Constable at last stepped into the hired 
carriage that had brought them from the Rose and Crown, 
to return to Wortham — “don’t you see that if I had left 
•the keys in Sir R.’s keeping I might very likely have bun- 
gled the whole business ? At any rate, he could have 
burned or made away with whatever compromising letters 
or papers his drawers or desk may contain, whereas now 
that they are snugly in charge of that careful inspector from 
Scotland Yard, I defy him to suppress an inconvenient 
scrap of evidence of that sort. Not but what I pity him, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 197 

I’m sure, since a man of his education must feel all this 
very keenly.” 

Left alone with his legal advisers, Sir Richard held a 
brief conference with Messrs. Tatham and Gudge before 
they, too, went back to Wortham. It had been arranged 
that for that night the master of the old Abbey was to 
remain under his own roof, the police being stationed so 
as to prevent any possibility of his escape. But on the 
morrow the law must take its course, although, as Mr. 
Gudge considerately pointed out, there was no doubt but 
that every care would be taken to make the baronet’s cap- 
tivity as comfortable as possible, at least until the verdict 
of the coroner’s jury should be given. 

That such a verdict should be one of “ Wilful murder,” 
even good-natured Mr. Gudge did not venture to disguise 
from himself or from his senior partner, when at last they 
had wished their client a “ good-night,” and were on their 
road back to the town whence they came. 

“ I am afraid, in the excited state of public feeling, there 
can be no hope of a milder finding than that,” said the 
junior member of the legal firm; “ but we can move to 
have the venue changed, of course, if, as I fear, there is a 
trial at bar. A sad thing, isn’t it? ” 

“Yes!” answered old Mr. Tatham, with a shudder; 
“ yes, it’s enough, Gudge, I declare, to make poor Sir 
George turn in his grave ! A Harrington in Wortham 
Gaol 1 ” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

LORD NORHAM COMES HOME. 

There were a stir and a flutter in the well-ordered house- 
hold at Hurst Royal, such as few anticipated events, short 
of a wedding or a death, could have produced. Lord 
Norham was coming home, a rare circumstance in itself, 
and one which was "fraught with more interest than gene- 
rally attaches to the arrival of the heir-apparent to a pro- 
perty and title. 

The very servants recognized a difference between the 
present lord of Hurst Royal and his successor that was to 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


198 

be. The old marquess had the respect and the liking of 
his inferiors, and deservedly so, but all who saw him con- 
stantly had taken the measure of his intellect, which was 
respectable but not great, and knew, so to speak, the exact 
length of his most noble foot. Whereas, Lord Norham 
was an unknown quantity ; and of him, therefore, those 
who were dependent on the reigning house were somewhat 
afraid. 

Lady Egeria’s brother was, indeed, reputed to be an 
eccentric young nobleman, whose chief characteristic was 
an indomitable determination to have his own way, and to 
select his path in life apart from the conventionalities. 

The marquess, as was well known, was disappointed in 
the hopes he had formed for the young man’s benefit. 
What was to be done with a son who was clever enough 
not only to go into Parliament, but actually to make a 
figure in the House, and who would not suffer himself to 
be nominated for an election, and was not to be tempted 
by the prizes of political life ? 

It was not only by eschewing St. Stephen’s that the future 
marquess showed the originality of his nature. He kept 
clear of London drawing-rooms as of the Lobby of the 
House of Commons, and professed to detest the chatter of 
the clubs. Yet he was no recluse, and those who had the 
privilege of knowing him spoke highly of his abilities, and 
regretted that he chose to keep them outside the glare of 
publicity. He did not care more for the life of a country 
gentleman than for the aimless existence of a Belgravian 
dangler. 

Fearless horseman, and dead shot though he was, he 
laughed at the idea of shooting tame pheasants that it had 
cost a guinea apiece to rear, and could seldom be coaxed 
into showing himself in scarlet with Sir Simon’s foxhounds. 

For farming he cared nothing, whereas his noble father 
spent some of his happiest hours among prize pigs and 
shorthorns, and was never weary of descanting on oilcake 
and mangold wurzel, and the relative fattening powers of 
barley meal and maize. Yet, Harold Fitzurse was no idler, 
and had given a hundred proofs of his courage and tenacity 
of purpose when once his mind was set upon the accom- 
plishment of some purpose. It needs fortitude to play the 
part of a Moslem Hadji in Arabia or on the borders of 
Turkestan, and to bow a turbaned head in some especially 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT . 


199 


sacred mosque, the one Christian among hundreds of fierce 
fanatics, ready at a word to snatch sabre and dagger from 
their sheaths, and to redden the holy pavement with the 
blood of the audacious infidel who dared to counterfeit the 
actions of a true believer. So it does, on behalf of a hurt 
comrade, to grapple with a grizzly bear on the edge of some 
ghastly chasm among the Rocky Mountains, and come off 
victorious from a struggle in which the odds were all in 
Bruin’s favor. 

At any rate, Lord Norham was now coming home for a 
time, and the marquess was the more pleased at the 
approaching event because his willful heir had consented to 
leave his winter quarters in the south of Spain expressly to 
please his father, still at feud with the stubborn pitmen of 
Silverseam. There, in spite of some vague concessions on 
the part of the noble owner of the mine, the strike went 
on, the idle hands living the while on the proceeds of sub- 
scriptions among other collieries of the north. 

Now the marquess, though he talked as stoutly of “ No 
Surrender ” as a nobleman and a coal-owner need do, 
longed to be on good terms once more with the recalci- 
trants, even at a sacrifice to himself. He could do nothing 
with them himself. He had tried argument, and he had 
been out-crowed by the professional agitators who were the 
trumpeters of the revolt. He had made appeals to the 
better feelings of the men, and had failed to touch their 
hearts, though they laughed good humoredly’ and shook 
their heads, for he had not become personally unpopular 
with those who were trying to coerce him. Now he hoped 
that his more brilliant son might be more persuasive than 
he had been. 

“ I think they would give Harold a hearing, if only 
because of the odd things* he would be sure to say,” 
remarked the marquess to Lady Egeria, more than once ; 
“ and, who knows, lie might make them hear reason, though 
I have failed to do it ? ” 

Lady Egeria, who was very fond and proud of her bro- 
ther, was overjoyed at the prospect of his return, just as 
she had given up the idea of seeing him for many a month 
to come. When first she made the acquaintance, in the 
pleasant summer-tide, of that luckless Sir Richard Har- 
rington, who was now the inmate of a prison awaiting his 
arraignment on the most serious of the pleas of the Crown, 


200 


THE LADY EGER LA ; 


Lord Norham had been on the coast of Norway in his 
yacht, the Moonbeam. Thence he had scampered to Como, 
and had next begun to date his letters from the Alhambra, 
and from places still more out of the way than palatial 
Granada ; such as Ronda, Velez Malaga, and the like. 
He hinted, too, at a half-formed intention of crossing to 
Africa, and “ cutting-across ” from Morocco to Unyoro 
and Zanzibar, which implied a long adieu to civilization. 
And here he was, in the most satisfactory way in the world, 
coming down to Hurst Royal at his father’s request, as 
any other son might have done. 

It may be mentioned, incidentally, that as to pecuniary 
means, Lord Norham was unusually independent. An 
aunt of his, sister of the late marchioness, had left him a 
fortune that he called his pocket money, and for three 
years past he had not accepted the large allowance which 
the marquess, who was the most liberal of men, pressed 
upon him. 

Lady Egeria, with her pretty cream-colored ponies, and 
the three liveried infants who belonged to the equipage, 
drove over to Wortham to meet her brother at the railway 
station there. It was a bright, fickle day of early spring, 
all sunshine and showers, and the tender green of the 
grass and the peeping forth of some coy wild flowers near 
the hedgerows almost compensated for the leafless trees 
and brown fallows. The train came in with a rattle and a 
shriek ; nor was it long before a bronzed and bearded 
gentleman emerged from the station door, and was con- 
fronted by the tiny tiger, in top boots and cockaded hat, 
who had just jumped down from behind the basket car- 
riage. 

“ What’s that, my little fellow, about her ladyship ? ” 
said the new comer in reply to the child in the cockaded 
hat. “ My sister here, eh? All right; I see the car- 
riage.” 

Lord Norham turned to give his own servant, who fol- 
lowed him, and who by his swarthy face and gold earrings, 
was presumably a foreigner, some brief directions as to 
his luggage, and then hastened forward to take Lady 
Egeria’s little hand between his own strong ones. 

“ Come to fetch me, I conclude ? That’s nice of you, 
and I’ll get in if my weight isn’t too much for this Cinder- 
ella equipage of yours and the cream-colored mice that 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


20 1 


Lord Norham suited the action to the word, and the 
light carriage rolled off promptly towards Hurst Royal. 

“ So glad to see you, and so kind of you to come,” said 
Lady Egeria, quite effusively for her. 

“ Well, I don’t know about that. I always, feel, you 
know, when I do return, as if some of you must be re- 
membering the parable of the Prodigal,” said Lord Nor- 
ham, who was a stalwart young man, six years older than 
Lady Egeria, and utterly unlike her, and as utterly unlike 
his father, though with a strong resemblance to some of 
the cavaliers among the Fitzurse family portraits in the 
picture gallery. He was as dark as a Spaniard, with a 
black, crisp beard, and the eye of a hawk. 

“ Yes, you have been a sad truant,” rejoined his sister, 
playfully ; “ but we must not scold you now that we have 
got you back with us again. I thought you would never 
tear yourself away from Norway, and the salmon, and the 
reindeer, and the fells and fiords, or whatever they are.” 

“ Yes, I knocked about the coast as long as the setting 
in of the fogs would let me,” answered her brother, philoso- 
phically — “ I like Norway. Near as .it is, the wandering 
Cockney has not spoiled either the sport or the natives as 
yet, and one may say as much for the quaint old villages 
and towns that I have just left among the Andalusian 
Sierras. How is my father ? Well, I know he is, in the 
flesh, but sorely plagued in spirit, if I may believe what he 
wrote to me, by these obstinate gnomes of the Silverseam 
pit.” 

“ I don’t think papa would have minded their treatment 
of him so much,” returned Lady Egeria in an undertone, 
“ but he has been greatly grieved by what has lately come 
to light amongst us here — at Greystone, I mean,” she 
added, softly. “ You have heard of it, Harold ? ” 

“ Ah, yes ; I read the newspapers when within reach of 
them,” answered her brother, “ and can’t quite shut my 
ears, too, against tattlers when I spend a day or two in 
London ; so Lam tolerably posted up in the details of that 
unlucky business. I’m sorry, too, for I knew and liked 
Lionel, poor fellow. As for Sir Richard, I think I saw him 
once, and thought him a bad copy of his brother, with all 
the chivalry left out, and a double share of smooth-faced 
plausibility instead, though it may seem ill-natured to 
criticize him now he is in trouble.” 


202 


THE LAD Y EGER/A ; 


“ He saved my life,” said Lady Egeria, softly ; “ and I 
have tried to like him and think well of him, and have 
never encouraged those who swelled the cry against him. 
And yet Harold, there was always something in his bear- 
ing that I could not fathom, and did not trust, with all my 
desire to be his friend. I cannot, however, believe that he 
really did the horrid deed they tax him with.” 

“ You mean the murder? No, not perhaps quite that, 
but I am afraid the act came very close upon deliberate 
murder, even if there was a duel scuffled up, in some 
informal way, in the jungle,” replied Lord Norham. “ Of 
course, the worst feature of the whole case, and the one 
that has laid hold of the public fancy, is his bringing home 
of the poor wretch’s remains as those of his brother. Why, 
you are crying, Egeria ! We ought not to talk of ugly 
stories like this, since they upset your nerves so much.” 

“ It is nothing — nothing, dear ; and I was foolish,” 
answered his sister, bravely keeping back her tears. “ You 
have been in India, Harold, have you not, in the course of 
your wanderings ? ” 

“Just for a bit — some pigsticking in the Deccan and a 
raid against tigers in the Terai,” replied Lord Norham, 
evidently surprised at the abruptness of the question. “ I 
prefer my Burra Shikar, as they call the pursuit of great 
game, in Africa or America, and am indeed disposed to 
regard the royal Bengal tiger as an impostor, unwilling to 
give sportsmen a peep at his striped skin. But what 
made you ask ? ” 

“ Because — because — oh, Norham, you will laugh at 
me,” pleaded Lady Egeria, with a quivering lip, “ and 
yet I have a reason for what is in my thoughts. Did it 
never occur to you as possible — probable, even, Harold, 
dear — that, India being what it is, Sir Richard’s elder 
brother, Sir Lionel Harrington, may be still living? ” 
These last words were uttered almost in a gasp, as if 
with painful effort, while the speaker’s beautiful eyes were 
turned eagerly, beseechingly, towards the bronzed face of 
her brother. 

“ Lionel Harrington alive ! How can that be possible ? ” 
replied Lord Norham, slowly. “ I thought the poor fellow 
had perished in that skirmish with robbers in the forest. 
Pity, perhaps, that the mischief did not happen to the 
younger instead of the elder of the two, but, at any rate, I 
supposed it to be proved ! ” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


203 


“ Nothing is proved ! ” responded Lady Egeria, more 
earnestly than before. “ The proof, Harold, on which we 
— on which all the world- — relied, has just been found out, 
you see, to be fallacious. Nobody ventures to assert that 
the body buried at Greystone was really that of Sir George’s 
eldest son and heir. And, that being so, 1 see no reason 
why we should be sure that poor Sir Lionel is not alive.” 
“Woman’s wit !” muttered Lord Norham, between his 
bearded lips, and then threw a quick glance at the lovely, 
eager face of his usually impassive sister, and probably 
drew his own deductions from what he heard and saw. 
For the space of half a minute, perhaps, he kept silence, 
turning over the matter in his mind, and then said, very 
gently for him, “ Upon my word, Egeria, there may be 
something in your idea, wild as it sounded at the first. 
Mind, though, I only say there may,” he added, as he 
marked the heightened color and the brightness of the eyes 
in her to whom he spoke, “for all the likelihood, I fear, 
goes the other way. Yet such a thing might be. India is 
not England — some centuries behindhand, at the least ; 
and I, though the least romantic of mankind, freely admit 
that truth is stranger than any fiction which the circulating 
libraries can supply. I’ll take time to think of it, my dear, 
and tell you my opinion later on. I, for one, shall be 
heartily glad of the prospect, I know, of shaking Lionel 
Harrington once more by the hand. But here we are ! 
How unaltered the old place looks, to be sure ! ” 

For at that moment the pretty equipage passed through 
the park gates, where the lodgekeeper and her children 
stood curtseying and bobbing welcome to the returned 
heir, and sped along under the shadow of the giant oaks 
of the stately avenue that led up to the mansion of Hurst 
Royal, worthy gift of a crowned king to the brave and 
loyal race that had possessed it for so many hundred years 
in the long past. 


204 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

IN THE COLLIERY DISTRICT. 

On the other side of Wortham, remote from Hurst Royal 
and the blue hills and burns and trout streams that lay 
beyond, the country seemed to change its nature, and to 
become unpicturesque, flat, and even ugly. There were 
brown moors alternating with rush-grown meadows ; strag- 
gling villages, in which the older dwellings were of loose 
flat stones, and the newer of grimy brick ; cinder paths 
across the fields ; grim pit mouths, surrounded by banks 
of coal or coke ; short chimneys, whence gushed forth 
yellow flame and black smoke ; tall chimneys towering on 
high and darkening the sky with thick vapors. 

It was not a district to attract a stranger to take up his 
residence within its boundaries, but such as it was, the 
colliers who inhabited it were fond of it somehow, and 
would have found themselves less at home in a region far 
more favored by Nature and embellished by art. Here 
lay, among others, the great Silverseam coal mine, the 
scene of a strike that had now been going on for the better 
part of a year; and here, too, was the model village of 
Swaffham Saxby — to be distinguished from Swaffham 
Regis, nearer to Wortham — rebuilt at great outlay by the 
present Marquess of Cheviot, and which boasted of the 
neatest houses and best plots of garden ground in all the 
neighborhood. 

There was a bustle in the village for a meeting was to 
be held at the Miners’ Arms, the great room of which 
would accommodate even the large gathering that was ex- 
pected ; for Lord Norham had announced his intention of 
addressing his father’s recalcitrant pitmen ; and of the heir 
to the marquisate the colliers knew just enough to whet 
their curiosity, and so were pretty certain to attend in 
strong force. And other persons were to be present who 
came to play a part as alien as possible to that of the 
peacemaker, and who had no wish that the great strike 
should come to an end so soon. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


205 


The Silverseam mine had been selected to be closed, 
chiefly, as it would seem, because of the semifeudal rela- 
tions that had hitherto existed between the noble coal- 
owner and the sturdy gnomes whose labor made his min- 
eral wealth a source of profit to the world at large. 

The marquess was their landlord as well as their em- 
ployer, and had been proud and glad to be their patron 
and their friend, while they, on their part, had cherished a 
traditional affection for the House of Fitzurse, a feeling 
that dated from long ago, and that had borne fruit in the 
old strife between King and Parliament, when the then 
Marquess of Cheviot had easily raised a regiment for the 
Royal cause. 

The decree of the Trade Union to which most of the 
Silverseam men belonged had been obeyed, and it was 
now some nine months since the underground galleries 
had become silent and deserted, and since not so much as 
an ounce of coal had been extracted from the black depths 
of the famous mine. 

The warfare had been mildly conducted, but stubborn 
on both sides. The marquess had eschewed harsh 
measures, such as eviction or stoppage of subscriptions to 
schools, infirmary, blanket club, and the like. The col- 
liers had abstained from riot and trespass, and had spared 
the marquess’ game preserves as they had respected his 
poultry yard. Put they had held out for unreasonable 
terms, and had been encouraged in their resistance by 
trained agitators, whose salaries were paid by the Asso- 
ciated Unions. Some of these were to be at the 
Miners’ Arms that day, to neutralize to the best of their 
power any effect that Lord Norham might produce upon 
his hearers. 

The meeting was a crowded one. Never had the white- 
washed walls of the great room, used for festive purposes 
and for musical entertainments, as well as for political or 
quasi-political gatherings, contained a more closely-packed 
mass of humanity. None but men were present, the lads 
forming a fringe around the door and in front of the red- 
curtained windows, while the women and girls stood in 
knots beside the palings of the nearest gardens or the 
honeysuckle-draped hedges that lined the road. 

On the platform, raised a foot or two above the dense 
array of the audience, were two distinct groups. With 


206 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Lord Norham was the marquess’ agent, Mr. Norris, and 
Mr. Bates, the manager, or so-called “butty,” of the 
mine, and two other good men and true, sub-overseers, 
or “ doggies ” in mining parlance, and Mr. Gudge, the 
Wortham solicitor from Crown Street, and the rector of 
the parish, and one or two more. 

The other, and smaller group, comprised two or three 
ringleaders of the malcontents, the editor of a Coalport 
newspaper, and two personages who had hurried down 
from London to buckle on their armor for the wordy fray, 
and who were understood to earn their living by fishing in 
the troubled waters which it was their aim in life to keep 
troubled. 

One of these was a young man, slightly deformed, and 
with a pale, thoughtful face, delicate features, and fiery 
eyes — an enthusiast this, newly enlisted by the Unions in 
their crusade against capitalists. There was this to be 
said for Mr. Withers, that he really did believe in his 
mission and himself, and was quite sincere, even when he 
talked glib nonsense. 

The case was widely different with the big, burly 
agitator, whose coarse red face and stentorian voice con- 
trasted so thoroughly with those of his better-educated 
ally, and who had been a prize-fighter, had been a “ knock 
out ” auctioneer, horse dealer, low comedian, and buffo 
vocalist, before he took to his present calling. He had 
inches enough, and impudence enough to be conspicuous 
anywhere, and his name, well-known among the colliers of 
the north, was Cowall. 

Mr. Withers, from London, led off. When he began to 
speak he coughed a good deal, and his voice was thin, 
and his manner unimpressive. But as he grew animated 
and warmed to his work, he seemed another man. His 
eye brightened ; his voice rang out sonorous and stirring 
as a trumpet call ; there came a hectic flush to his wan 
cheek \ and he waxed eloquent, scornful, bitter, and per- 
suasive, pouring out a perfect hail shower of well-chosen 
words. 

What he said was not new, the old declamation about 
selfish rich men and the poor, rough-handed sons of toil ; 
pretty much what used to be said in bad Latin at the 
Mons Sacer when Rome’s working men mutinied against 
senator and politician. But he put his soul into what he 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


207 


said. He really meant it. When he declared that Capi- 
tal was a fungus, and the capitalist a bloodsucker, he was 
as honestly fervent as if he had been a novel Peter the 
Hermit preaching to Europe to rush to the conquest of 
the Holy Sepulchre from theturbaned infidel. And when 
he had finished, and stood panting for breath — for his 
lungs were weak — Lord Norham astonished his own sup- 
porters and his opponents by crossing the platform to offer 
his own strong right hand to the grasp of the feeble digits 
of the orator. 

“ I like — excuse me, Mr. Withers — to shake hands with 
a man who means what he says, as you so evidently do,” 
said the young lord. 

Then Mr. Cowall stepped forward. He was an old 
favorite with the pitmen, or, perhaps, it would be truer to 
say that every man there fancied that every other man had 
a high opinion of the Deputy Head Centre from London. 
His speech was not by any means as brilliant as that of 
his sickly young friend, but it produced a greater effect 
than that oration, which had been viewed as a sort of in- 
tellectual fireworks. Mr. Cowall did not, to use his own 
habitual expression, shoot over his hearers’ heads. He 
was strong, but he was homely. He had nothing new to 
say, but he had the knack of making the old themes sound 
original ; could use a proverb or a scrap of slang with 
telling effect ; and knew how to be personal without being 
outrageously offensive. 

He had his joke about the marquess, who, he said, was 
a worthy old nobleman, no doubt, who had a sort of 
grandmotherly regard for those beneath him, and so would 
keep them all their lives in leading strings. And he had 
his fling at the future marquess, there present, as one who 
had been born with a gold spoon in his mouth, and there- 
fore wanted others to take what they could get and be 
thankful, but who never in his life had done a stroke of 
work, or been of the remotest use to England or to those 
around him any more than if he had been a caterpillar 
crawling on a cabbage leaf. What did “ my lord ” know 
about English working men or their wants ; he, whose 
time had been spent — time and money too, no doubt — 
broadcast, in foreign parts : he (Mr. Cowall) would not 
say in frivolity and dissipation, like so many of his order, 
but still wasted ; and what was the worth of his advice to 
those who had to earn their bread by honest labor ? 


208 


THE LADY EGRRIA ; 


These and other things, jocose, denunciatory, sarcastic 
did Mr. Cowall enunciate with all the force of his lungs, 
and certainly he raised a laugh more than once, and was 
often rewarded by a deep hum of assent, and once by 
cheers. 

Then Lord Norham spoke, and every ear was bent tc 
listen to his words, which were worth the hearing. The 
speech he made was long — when, since the days of Demos- 
thenes, was a born orator short-winded ? — but no one there 
would have been tired of hearkening to it had its length 
been double. 

By some happy knack he had contrived from the outsel 
to rivet the attention of the crowd — to make his hearers 
feel themselves at home with him ; and then he went on, 
winning their trust in spite of all the efforts that had been 
made to inspire prejudice against him, and finding his way, 
somehow, to convince their understandings by touching 
their hearts. 

He, too, could be satirical when he pleased, and many 
of those present rubbed their eyes and shook themselves 
uneasily, as if to ascertain that they were really awake, as 
Lord Norham brushed away, like cobwebs, the fallacies 
that had been made to pass for sterling truth, and showed 
how puerile were the pretexts for the strife between master 
and men. 

He, too, could be graphic, and there were murmurs, re- 
echoed with sobs by the women without, as he spoke of 
children’s rosy faces growing j>ale and thin, of empty cup- 
boards and cold hearths, as the rocks that loomed ahead, 
should the strike go on. And then he warmed into a glow 
of manly kindness, and held out the olive branch, on his 
father’s behalf, as the marquess never could have done, 
and, amidst great and repeated cheering, struck while the 
iron was hot and got the terms of peace accepted by the 
meeting at large. 

There was much rejoicing at Hurst Royal when Lord 
Norham returned, somewhat late, from Swaffham Saxby, 
bringing the news of his peaceful victory. And, after 
dinner, when the servants had left the room, the marquess 
seemed to care for no other topic of conversation. 

** 1 thought, Harold, my boy, that you could hammer 
reason into those hard heads of theirs if any one could,” 
said the old nobleman : “ yet there was the fear all along 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


209 


that they might hoot you down, or drown your voice, as 
they did mine.” 

“ i was lucky,” said Lord Norham, modestly ; “ perhaps 
the novelty of the thing induced them to be patient with 
me.” 

“ And that was a great hit,” pursued the marquess, 
“ when you made them wince by pointing out that, so far 
from asserting their independence, they were catspaws 
after all, for the Associated Unions to make use of to pull 
the chesnuts out of the fire. Our north-country hands 
hate to be viewed as puppets for wire pullers from the 
south, like Withers and Cowall, and the wiser clique of 
managers that keep unseen. And Cowall, bully as he is, 
seems to have met his match, and a little more, to-day.” 

“ Well, I took him by surprise, you see,” said Lord 
Norham, cracking a walnut, and speaking almost apolo- 
getically for the defeated champion of the hostile party. 
“ As he had called me useless, I thought it was but fair to 
play up to his lead. So I challenged him, since we two 
seemed to be the biggest men in the room, to go down 
Silverseam Pit, with umpires, and try which could do the 
best day’s work at coal hewing with pick and shovel for 
twenty pounds a side. And he funked it — as we Eton 
boys used to say — and wouldn’t agree, but grew redder 
than ever, and the doggies laughed, and said they’d back 
‘ my lord ’ for a fiver apiece to win the wager ; and then 
the miners began to laugh too, and after that they and I 
were the best of friends.” 

“ And would you really have done it, Harold ? ” asked 
Lady Egeria, laughingly : “ you, who never handled such 
tools, I suppose, in your life ? ” 

“To be sure I would,” answered Lord Norham, tran- 
quilly, as he picked his walnut ; “ my muscles, thanks to 
an athlete’s life, are in better condition than those of Mr. 
Cowall, who is a mere agitator, and earns a living by his 
tongue instead of his arms. Anyhow, the offer of such a 
trial by battle did good.” 

There was, indeed, a load taken off the mind of the 
marquess by what he heard. Not only was he relieved 
from the burthen of that internecine struggle with his 
hereditary colliers which had vexed his kind heart for many 
a day, but he felt as though his heir were restored to him. 
No doubt, after his success of that day, and his evident 

14 


210 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


enjoyment in it, Lord Norham would remain in England 
now, and take a growing interest in the great estate that 
he was eventually to inherit. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A NOBLE CAPTIVE. 

Far away from England, far away from Europe, the bright 
sunbeams danced and quivered on the gilded trellis work 
that covered a window, unglazed, but which could be 
closed at night by tightly-fitting shutters of polished wood. 
The window, like most Oriental windows, was high up in 
the wall, so that it was impossible to look forth from it un- 
less the gazer stood near it ; and through it came the dull 
hum of the bees, and the liquid plashing of the fountain, 
the jet of which sprang high into the sunshine, and then 
fell in a shower of diamond drops into a marble basin, 
around which roses bloomed. The room itself, with its 
slender pillars of fluted marble, the gay arabesques on the 
walls, the Saracenic arches of golden honeycomb work, 
the Persian carpet on the floor, and the divan covered 
with rich stuff of a dull crimson, was pretty enough. But 
to the eyes of its solitary occupant it had come to be hate- 
ful indeed ; as hateful as the most squalid cell in some 
prison of Spain or Russia, where modern philanthropy has 
not yet gained a hearing. 

The lonely dweller in this decorated room was pacing to 
and fro, from the carved and painted alcove which con- 
tained his bed, half hidden by a curtain of silk, to the tall 
and narrow window, with its dainty lattice work of iron, 
overlaid with gold leaf, tarnished by time, as were also the 
gorgeous Moorish arches, the carpet from Shiraz, and the 
costly stuff of which consisted the drapery of the divan. 

He was a young man, tall and fair to look upon, with 
features and complexion that were clearly those of a Euro- 
pean, though the handsome dress he wore, of white and 
scarlet, was Oriental in style and material, and was sewn 
with seed pearl and silver thread, as were also the velvet 
slippers which encased his feet. It was such a garb as in 
the East is only worn by a person of rank, and the sole 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 211 

difference in this case was that the wearer’s head was bare, 
without cap or turban, and that the striped girdle around 
his waist contained no dagger. 

The room itself was furnished with tables, stools, and 
other articles of Indian workmanship, but with nothing 
European save a large clock fastened to the wall, and that 
ticked monotonously, as if to keep time to the ceaseless 
plash of the fountain without. There were no books j no 
writing materials. A large silver-mounted hookah stood 
neglected in a corner, and a collection of pipes, Turkish 
and Persian, cumbered the shelves, but that was all, except 
some porcelain jars filled with flowers. 

“ Is this to last for ever ? ” asked the prisoner, impa- 
tiently, as he interrupted his walk and stood, as if irresolute, 
in the centre of the room. “ Am I doomed to mope and 
pine for ever in this gilded cage, mocked by the respectful 
silence of those whom alone I have to deal with, mere pas- 
sive instruments of the treacherous tyrant whom they 
obey? Oh, for an English face, the wholesome sound of 
Christian voices, the freedom that I never valued till it 
was lost, my career, my country, and my home ! How I 
loathe this life of forced inaction, the long dull hours of the 
weary day, the very sound of yonder fountain as its spray 
falls back into the bubbling water beneath ! Yet I am 
treated, for a captive, with a singular deference and atten- 
tion. Every day they load my table with dishes, the very 
names of which are unknown to me, and offer me rare 
fruits and strange sweetmeats, and give me wine, and 
choice tobacco, and even opium. But they will tell me 
nothing — not the reason for my being brought here— not 
my offence, real or imaginary, against their master — and 
in vain I crave an interview with that master, whose arbi- 
trary will shackles me to this spot. 

“ It grows late,” added the lonely tenant of the room, 
after a glance at the clock ; “ later, far, than the hour at 
which they come, day after day, to lead me out for exer- 
cise in yonder garden, screened by walls, where prying 
eyes cannot behold me as I pace the paths, among the 
gorgeous flowers, and the terraces inlaid with many- 
colored marble, and that fountain, dancing in the flicker- 
ing light of the declining sun. How well I have learned 
to know every shrub and tree and flower bed, and 
the dusky lineaments of the two guards, standing by the 


212 


THE LADY EGERTA ; 


door, with loaded carbines, and sabres swinging at their 
sides ! How used have I grown to the obsequious meek- 
ness of the white-robed servants, who dog my steps, and 
watch my every movement, and yet profess to be my 
humble slaves, ready to do my bidding, but mute as death 
itself when I demand who dares to keep an Englishman in 
durance here ! 

“ There are signs, however, which point to some break, 
some change in the cruel, odious sameness of this death in 
life of mine ; and welcome should it be, were it to direst 
peril, even to death itself, were I once convinced that liberty 
was gone for ever. And that reminds me that a chance 
remains.” 

From behind one of the porcelain vases that held flowers 
he drew a piece of charcoal, and with it proceeded to write 
upon the smooth, milk-white chunam, or cement made from 
pounded sea shells, hard as marble itself, of the wall 
nearest to him. Line after line he traced, in rough, bold 
letters, when suddenly the clank of steel and the sound of 
booted feet in the corridor without made him start. Pie 
left off writing, and restored the piece of charcoal to its 
former hiding place, but almost at the same instant the 
door opened, and several figures became visible. The 
first face that the prisoner beheld was the keen, dark 
countenance of the man who acted as head gaoler, and 
who raised his hands to his turban with the usual signs of 
outward deference. Behind him came two other servants, 
while four troopers, fierce, swarthy fellows, armed to the 
teeth, brought up the rear. 

“ Salaam, Sahib — you must condescend to come with us 
— such are the orders of our lord ! ” said the chief of the 
party, bending his supple spine, and smiling in a depre- 
catory fashion. 

“ Whither ? ” demanded the captive, with a searching 
look ; “ not to the garden, as usual, I conclude. Has 
your master ” 

“ His august name must not be breathed,” exclaimed the 
native, still speaking in Hindustani, as indeed the English- 
man had done. “Here, Vasna Vi, give the Feringhee 
what you have brought ; he will need it for the sun’s rays, 
since, Sahib, we are going to ride.” 

After an instant’s hesitation, the prisoner took the hel- 
met of white felt, with a puggaree of muslin wound round 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


2 >3 


it, which was offered him, and followed the guards as they 
tramped down the long corridor, and down a narrow and 
winding staircase of stone that he knew well. Instead of 
opening the side door that led into the garden, the soldiers 
strode on, turning to the left, and traversing passage after 
passage, cloister after cloister, till, suddenly, a door, 
studded with huge nails, was thrown open, and the sunlight 
poured in. To right and left arose the lofty walls and 
towers of the palace fortress, but in front were the tall 
trees and dense undergrowth of the jungle. Between the 
buildings and the forest stood a number of horses, equipped 
for the road, and, so soon as the captive emerged from 
the doorway, some ten or twelve armed troopers swung 
themselves into their saddles, while the steeds intended 
for the rest of the party were led forward by bare-footed 
Syces, ready girded for a journey. 

“ This,” said the man who acted as head gaoler, point- 
ing to a white horse richly caparisoned, “ is the horse 
meant for the Sahib’s use. He goes well, and is of Arab 
blood, and worthy of such a rider.” 

For a moment — -it was only for a moment — the prisoner 
stood as if in doubt. Then, as he surveyed the prepara- 
tions, and counted the sixteen swarthy troopers of the 
escort, he saw the hopelessness either of resistance or of 
eluding the vigilance of his captors. 

Without a word of remonstrance, he grasped the flowing 
mane of the fine horse that was led up for him, and sprang 
into the deep saddle, with its shovel stirrups, while 
instantly the mounted guards closed around him, so as to 
cut him off from any possible contact with the outer 
world. 

Then the word was given to march, and, with the 
swiftly-running attendants keeping pace with the horses, 
the little column of riders struck into the darkling forest 
road and soon disappeared amidst the tangled vegetation 
of the jungle. 


y \ 


i 


214 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

FLIGHT. 

The crisis at Futtehpore, long expected, both by the 
Supreme Government of India and the vassal prince, had 
come at last. For weeks and months there had been what 
continental newspapers describe as a state of tension 
between the English authorities and Amarat Rao. And 
of late the relations betwixt the Rajah and the British 
Resident accredited to his Court had been strained and 
unfriendly to a degree. 

It was matter of notoriety that the prince’s deposition 
had been all but decided upon by the higher powers, and 
it was equally well known that his real offence was that 
of inciting other chiefs to conspire with him against the 
English Raj. 

But a native ruler is never taxed with political misdeeds 
when he can be arraigned on the safer ground of oppres- 
sion, and Amarat Rao’s misrule was quite enough to 
warrant his dethronement, or even the annexation of his 
country to the British dominions. 

The fiat, however, had gone forth that the example to be 
made at Futtehpore might be of a milder sort. Amarat 
Rao’s sway must cease, but some obscure scion of the 
reigning house, likely to prove amenable to official advice, 
might be set up in his place. And the present prince 
would henceforth have to subsist, as a state prisoner, on a 
pension adapted to his rank. 

Amarat Rao was too wary and subtle to be taken by 
surprise. Already he had made certain arrangements 
with a view to the coming mischief. His spies and scouts 
were everywhere, and there was little business transacted 
at the Residency without its nature being known in the 
palace. And now emissary after emissary came hurrying 
in, bringing tidings that left no doubt of the imminence of 
the catastrophe. 

The worst that could be feared was about to happen. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


215 


The Resident had himself visited the cantonments, and 
conferred repeatedly with the general in command. The 
telegraph was constantly at work. Reinforcements were 
supposed to be on their road to Futtehpore, and the whole 
camp was in a state of stir and bustle that boded no good 
to the ruler who had incurred the hostility of the Govern- 
ment. 

Amarat Rao’s mind had long been made up as to the 
course to be pursued. His trusted servants hastily packed 
up treasure and jewels and other valuable property that 
could be readily moved, while vague rumors of projected 
resistance were set afloat in the Bazaar, and soon, as had 
b( en anticipated, reached the ears of the Resident and of 
the military authorities. Nor was such resistance, how- 
ever rash, quite beyond the range of probability. 

The Rajah, like other Indian princes, had his private 
army : a costly toy in time of peace, but capable of prov- 
ing dangerous at a period of commotion. He had his 
camp, even as the British brigade that watched him had 
theirs, and in it were horse, foot, and artillery to a respect- 
able amount. To hoist the red flag of revolt might be a 
desperate act, but it was one to which such a one as 
Amarat Rao might be tempted. Wherefore it was thought 
best to avoid hurry, and to await the arrival of reinforce- 
ments before taking a decisive step. 

The reinforcements were near now. The long column 
on its march raised clouds of dust that were discernible 
afar off, and mounted messengers came spurring in with 
the tidings of its approach. The Rajah had no intention 
of waiting till the coming thunderstorm should break on 
his devoted head. He had by degrees withdrawn from 
the camp the most trustworthy of his soldiers, picked men 
on whom he could rely in adversity. His stables had 
been emptied to provide sufficient steeds for the flitting 
that was projected. His favorite wives, his children, and 
other non-combatants, were to accompany him in horse 
litters, escorted by the troopers of his bodyguard, and by 
a few of the choicest troops of all arms, under the com- 
mand of the bravest of his sirdars. 

Although the Rajah had determined upon flight, he had 
no wish that his departure, or his preparations, should be 
known to his enemies. Accordingly, a chain of sentinels 
had been formed between the palace and the town, with 


21 6 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


strict orders to shoot or cut down all who might try to 
pass in the direction either of the Bazaar or the English 
cantonments. Meanwhile the place itself was full of noise, 
bustle, and confusion. The echoes of its silent arcades 
and deserted halls were thoroughly awakened now. Every- 
where resounded the clash of steel, the clink of accoutre- 
ments, the tramp of booted feet, the sound of hammers, 
and the incessant babble of eager voices. 

If many were to share the flight of the prince, many, so 
the despot had willed it, were to stay behind to screen 
that flight and delay the pursuers as much as possible. 

Amarat Rao’s orders had been issued for a stubborn, if 
passive, defense of the palace. The vast building was to 
hold out to the last moment practicable. Every door and 
gate, every postern and window, was to be barricaded. 
The drawbridges over the moat, now dry, were to be raised, 
should their rusty chains not prove recalcitrant. The old 
cannon on the battlements, the old matchlocks in 'the tur- 
rets, were to be furbished up to make as brave a display 
as might be when the besiegers should appear. Of course 
a struggle was hopeless and useless, but there might seem, 
at least, to be the design to fight to the last, and that, at 
any rate, would gain time for the escape of the selfish 
tyrant who was the master of all. 

The preparations were at last complete. The riders of 
the escort, swarthy Mahrattas and fierce-eyed Moham- 
medans, were mounted. The few foot soldiers and men of 
the artillery who had been chosen to follow the fortunes of 
their prince had marched. The horse-litters, with their 
veiled occupants, pleased with whatever broke the tedious 
sameness of harem life had moved forward. So had the 
long array of tent bullocks and elephants, equipped with 
velvet howdahs and rich saddle cloths, and dark-skinned 
coolies, carrying the long bamboos to which packages were 
strapped. 

Not a courtier was there, no pompous Vizier, no solemn 
Kazi, no smug placeholder of any sort. There was the one 
sirdar who had been selected to command the handful of 
chosen troops. And there were two or three grim Moham- 
medan nobles, who hated the British so heartily that they 
were ready to be true even to a pagan prince who was a 
foe to the Christians. 

And then Amarat Rao came forth with a brow of gloom, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


217 


but with a flash of fierce resentment in his dark eyes, 
splendidly dressed, as was his wont, and sprang unaided 
into his gold-embossed saddle. 

Then the calvacade moved off, disappearing at last 
among the glades of the forest, in the same direction as 
that taken, some forty-eight hours before, by the English 
captive and his guards and gaolers. 


CHAPTER XL. 

THE WRITING ON THE CHUNAM WALL. 

The hot sunshine of morning gilded the palm groves of 
the plain, and threw a yellow lustre over the tops of the 
tall trees on the confines of the hoary forest, but its rays 
had no power to penetrate the screen of dense and tangled 
vegetation that lay beneath. 

Nestling amidst the darkling shades of its sylvan soli- 
tude, the very palace seemed to sleep in sullen repose, 
soon to be rudely broken. 

Faintly at the first, then more distinctly, came the noise 
of the advance. Very gradual was the approach of the 
threatening sounds : swelling, deepening, growing louder, 
and reverberating through the silent glades of the jungle. 

Thud ! thud ! went the horses’ hoofs on the soft and 
swampy turf, enamelled with small flowerets and rare 
ferns, and this sound mingled with the martial clatter of 
accoutrements, the braying of trumpets, and the crash of 
the artillery, as the weight of guns and tumbrils was forced 
with difficulty through the bush and briar, and in the 
midst of the matted undergrowth which bordered the 
narrow paths. 

They are coming, coming at last, these English foes, 
so audaciously defied, and that in force enough to bring 
to his senses the continuations vassal who had dreamed 
of bringing back the old period of misrule and petty war- 
fare to which conquerors of our own race, from Clive to 
Havelock, put an end. 

The whole brigade was in motion. The reinforcements, 
freshly arrived, had been made use of to invest the Rajah’s 
camp and to keep order in the Bazaar, where shops were 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


218 

closed and seething masses of natives, often with weapons 
at their sides, blocked the narrow streets. 

The prince’s small army had submitted, without a blow 
being struck, to such conditions as the British authorities 
thought fit. Their leaders had made no attempt at 
encouraging a futile resistance. The tide of war rolled 
on towards the Rajah’s palace, where it was understood 
that all had been got ready for a desperate defense. That 
the old walls were strong, all knew, and there is noto- 
riously no predicting when Orientals may be expected to 
fight to the death. It had been thought best, then, to 
crush resistance by the pressure of irresistible numbers. 

On came the brigade, in long array, through the shadowy 
vistas and sombre thickets of the immemorial wood. The 
shrill notes of the cavalry trumpets awoke the echoes, and 
were followed by the deep, menacing roll of the drums 
and the firm, quick tramp of advancing infantry. The 
silence, so far as the human voice was concerned, in which 
the movement of so many armed men was conducted, was 
in itself to the highest degree impressive. The stern 
steadiness of our English discipline prevented the babble 
of tongues so common on exciting occasions in continental 
Europe. Except for a hoarse word of command at inter- 
vals, nothing was said. 

Meanwhile, within the palace itself, all was clamor, 
confusion, and dismay. The line of sentinels planted to 
cut off communication between the fortress and the town 
had retreated at the first signs of the hostile approach, and 
the news they had brought seemed to have struck terror 
into every heart. Yet there were efforts made to carry 
out the positive orders of the fugitive prince, and to defend 
the palace and the women to the last. 

Hurriedly the gates and doors were locked and barred, 
the many narrow windows blocked with casks filled with 
earth and sandbags, and barricades built up at the points 
considered most vulnerable to an attacking force. 

On the tall ramparts and in the towers that studded the 
curtain wall, there were bustle and activity. Old cannon 
of every conceivable date and calibre, and some of which 
had probably been founded as long ago as the glorious 
reign of Aurungzebe, showed their brass or bronze mouths 
from antique embrasures. From turret loopholes and 
arrow slits were thrust forth the gleaming barrels of por 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


r.9 

tentously long matchlocks, not to be despised when there 
was cover lor the ambushed marksmen. And it was no 
secret that the palace contained many foot soldiers, armed 
with English rides of the newest pattern, and who had 
only to stand firm to cause much useless bloodshed before 
they should be finally overpowered. 

At last the advancing troops had poured forth from the 
forest and proceeded to surround the doomed dwelling. 
The tamarind groves, the orchards of orange, peach, 
almond, and date trees were full of soldiers now. The 
cavalry were drawn up beside the huge tank, bordered 
with polished granite, and the guns were planted so as to 
breach if necessary, the thick walls of the palace for- 
tress. 

From within there came confusedly to the ears of the 
besiegers the uproar that prevailed among the defenders 
of the place, but they were far from appreciating the exact 
nature of the scene inside. The bewildered Orientals, 
deserted by their lord, run hither and thither, distractedly 
trying to execute his commands given on the previous 
day, but without a chief to put himself at the head. The 
soldiers, in hall and courtyard, stood huddled together, 
like sheep in presence of wolves. Their officers no longer 
flourished their tulwars, and the pallor and trepidation of 
the armed mob gave scanty promise of a vigorous 
attempt to hold out. The servants, weeping or uttering 
imprecations and prayers alternately, ran hither and thither, 
while the inmates of the harem, realizing for the first time 
the position, added their piercing shrieks to a din that 
was already deafening. 

A flag of truce was sent forward, on the besiegers’ part, 
with a peremptory summons to surrender in the name of 
the Queen-Empress of India. But there was no response 
whether of submission or defiance — nothing but a medley 
of hideous noises ; while from the turrets and battlements 
not a shot was fired, though turbaned heads and the glitter 
of gun barrels and the gaping mouths of cannon were visi- 
ble at every aperture. 

There was a brief delay, and then the music of the regi- 
mental bands struck up cheerily, and the shrill notes of 
the Highlanders’ bagpipes rang out in unison with the 
sounds of brazen instruments and the beating of drums. 

Next came the word to advance. The neglected draw- 


2 20 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


bridges had been found impossible to raise, and therefore 
the weedgrown moat long dry, was crossed without 
difficulty. 

Then came the real attack. The butt ends of the sol- 
diers’ firelocks and the axes of the pioneers resounded on 
the doors, which were presently demolished, as were the 
barricades, hastily erected, that had been set up ; and as 
an entrance was forced, the yells of the natives and the 
wild screams of the immured women swelled the chorus of 
frantic noises that prevailed 

Still, not a shot was fired on either side. The groaning 
doors were beaten down beneath the heavy blows of the 
assailants, the barricades fell crashing under the strokes of 
the axe, but not so much as a spluttering discharge of 
musketry burst forth from within the invaded fortalice. 

With a cheer the troops rushed in, and there was an 
immediate stampede, in an opposite direction, of the 
would-be defenders of the stronghold. With cries of 
“ Amaun ! Amaun ! ” the frightened creatures fell on their 
knees, imploring mercy and quarter, while louder still, 
from the harem, came the shrieks of the alarmed women, 
and the armed men threw down their guns and shields and 
scimitars, and greeted their advancing foes with salaams 
and abject entreaties for pardon, answered with roars of 
laughter from the victors, who now perceived that their 
triumph was an easy one indeed, and the defense unworthy 
of the name. 

As usual there was some little discretion necessary, on 
the part of the officers, to prevent indiscriminate plunder 
or wanton mischief, either on the part of the straggling 
soldiers, or of the camp followers, who soon crowded in ; 
but the men were in good humor, and discipline was well 
preserved. 

It was not until the occupation of the palace was com- 
pleted, and the babel of sounds had somewhat subsided, 
that the real state of the case was known, and Amarat 
Rao’s flight, with his wives and treasures and the best and 
bravest of his people, eventually discovered. 

Then indeed the general in command felt a little par- 
donable irritation at the trick which had been played. 
All the resources of the British military power had been 
called into requisition, merely to surprise what was really 
an untenable post. The bird had flown, and only the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


221 


empty nest remained. There had been no resistance, and 
there was therefore no one to be punished. The sem- 
blance of armed rebellion against the Supreme Govern- 
ment of which Amarat Rao’s subjects had been guilty was 
readily condoned, 

Whither the Rajah had fled remained a mystery for the 
moment. Even in that time of terror his servants’ lips 
remained sealed as to the refuge to which their master had 
betaken himself. 

There was no violence, no pillage. The crestfallen 
captives and their guards were allowed to slink away un- 
molested, leaving their arms on the ground. The guns on 
the ramparts were spiked, the matchlock men dismissed, 
and the bags of powder lying about were placed in safe 
keeping. 

Then it became necessary to calm the agitation of the 
shrieking ladies and their slaves in the zenana, and this, 
with due attention to Eastern etiquette, consumed some 
time. At last, however, an officer, who spoke the lan- 
guage of India well, was admitted to an outer room of the 
harem, and there met a deputation of its occupants, to 
whom, in the general’s name, he offered assurances of 
protection and respect. 

Then the screaming ceased, and presently some dusky 
servants bearing trays were sent out to offer sweetmeats 
and sherbet to the English sahibs, as a mark of the 
feminine gratitude of those within. 

There were other cares, however, incumbent on the visi- 
tors. A search had to be made, in a quiet way, for treason- 
able correspondence, as well as for ammunition and treasure, 
in case the Rajah should not have had time for or oppor- 
tunity of removing all that could be connected with the 
plot which was his real offence. 

In the execution of this last duty, Lord Alfred Mortimer, 
as one of the officers selected to discharge it, was going 
from room to room, with a party of his hussars in atten- 
dance, when the sergeant who accompanied him suddenly 
threw open the door of a large and richly-decorated cham- 
ber at the very extremity of a neglected corridor, where 
cobwebs of giant size almost hid the carved and gilded 
cornices and pilasters. 

There is no need to describe the room itself, which was 
that so recently inhabited by the European captive, who 


222 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


had been hurried away from his place of confinement so 
abruptly two days before the Rajah’s flight. In the 
chamber, however, was found a native servant of the 
prince, more cautious or more loyal than the rest, who was 
in the very act of hurriedly effacing some written words 
traced apparently in charcoal, in bold, black letters on the 
milky whiteness of the chunam wall. The writing, as the 
young officer perceived at a glance, was couched in English. 

“ Put that fellow under arrest, sergeant ! ” exclaimed 
Lord Alfred, excitedly, pointing to the dark-skinned native 
whose eyes dilated with alarm as he found himself detected. 
“ Set a file of men to watch him, and march him to the 
other end of the passage. You can shut the door until I 
call to you, for I must copy this carefully in case of acci- 
dent.” 

Left alone, Lord Alfred took out his note-book, and most 
carefully copied the mutilated inscription on the wall, letter 
for letter and line for line. He performed this task with 
an interest that surprised himself, and then calling to the 
sergeant, ordered him to leave a sentry at the door of the 
room, with instructions to prevent any native, on whatever 
pretext, from entering it. 

“ The writing there,” he explained, “ must be kept un- 
injured, since the brigadier, and perhaps the Resident, may 
wish to see it for themselves later on ; so keep these black 
beggars back at the sword’s point, do you hear ? And, 
sergeant send that fellow ” — pointing to the native servant 
who stood scowling by — “ to the Provost Marshal, under 
escort, to be looked after for the present. You can say he 
has been caught in the act of suppressing evidence.” 

These orders were promptly obeyed, and the young 
officer proceeded on his rounds through the vast building, 
more like a small town than an ordinary dwelling, and 
which had an accommodation, as often is the case in India, 
for thousands of inmates. The search so far had noi- 
re warded the activity displayed to any great extent. No 
large store of ammunition had been found, and no treasure 
or compromising papers. Probably Amarat Rao had 
burned or removed such documents ; whilst the treasury 
itself, with its low roof, and pillars ostentatiously plated 
with silver, was found quite bare of coin or ingots. There 
was no more just then to be done, so the word was given 
to form and march. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


223 


A strong guard, native and European, remained behind 
to occupy the palace, while the long column formed again 
with some difficulty, owing to the nature of the forest- 
encumbered ground and took the route back to the canton- 
ments. 

There was some disappointment, it must be owned, 
among the men, that the events of the day had turned out 
so peacefully. For the European soldier, in the climate of 
India, and with the monotony of Indian camp life, does 
feel creeping over him a weariness of life that makes war 
welcome as a pleasant source of excitement. The British 
regiments, therefore, felt in a measure defrauded of a 
promised treat, in that there had been no rebellion, no 
resistance, no light, to break the sameness of drill and guard 
mounting. But, on second thoughts, they came to vote 
the affair a practical joke, and to laugh contemptuously at 
the well-remembered terror of the armed warriors who had 
been left to garrison the mansion of their runaway ruler. 

And when Lord Alfred Mortimer regained his quarters, 
his first care was to enclose the copy of the inscription 
which he had taken, in a letter addressed to his uncle in 
England, no other than our old acquaintance, the Marquess 
of Cheviot at Hurst Royal. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

CROSS PURPOSES. 

Lady Egeria Fitzurse was sitting alone, as was now 
often the case, at a window of her pretty blue room, list- 
lessly gazing out at the familiar prospect, with a sad look 
in those beautiful eyes of hers. Quite suddenly the door 
opened, and the marquess, with every sign of perturbation, 
came fussing in, an open letter in his hand. 

“ It is a provoking, a most provoking thing ! ” said the 
old nobleman, less to his daughter than to himself, and 
then added, “ I’ve just received this from your cousin 
Alfred in India ; and a more preposterous idea than he 
has got into his head I never yet heard of. I have come 
to hate the very name of that country ever since that 


224 


THE LADY £ GEE LA ; 


miserable affair of Sir Richard’s ; and now Alfred Mortimer 
fancies he has made a wonderful discovery that is to throw 
light on the fate of this same Walter Travis whom our 
neighbor is accused of having murdered and then buried 
in his own family vault — a funeral I myself attended, 
which I am sure I should never have done that of a ne’er- 
do-well adventurer like Travis — ” 

Perhaps the marquess here became conscious that he 
was limp in his logic and confused in his speech, for he 
coughed awkwardly, and became silent. 

“ But you have not yet told me, papa,” inquired Lady 
Egeria, with a languid interest, “ what Alfred has dis- 
covered.” 

“ You had better hear what he says, and judge for your- 
self,” returned the marquess, and forthwith proceeded to 
read aloud : — 

“‘My Dear Uncle, — I did not expect to write so soon again 
after my letter of Monday week, thanking you for that kind one of 
your own, and the cheque enclosed ; but events have happened in this 
dullest of dull places, in which I have had the misfortune to be 
quartered since my arrival in India, which give me something to nar- 
rate that may be interesting to you at home. We have had a political 
storm or revolution here — on a small scale, of course — a mere tempest 
in a teacup, but which has ended in the deposition of the reigning 
Rajah, and the storming of his palace, which was held out most con- 
tumaciously against the powers that punish, and had to be captured 
by a grand display of British valor. Not that anything heroic or 
spirit-stirring did occur, either on the part of the defenders or our 
own. On the contrary, it was a victory as bloodless as if the contest 
had been between two sets of theatrical supers ; but there we were, 
horse, foot, artillery, and engineers, quite prepared for a sharp struggle, 
and I believe some of the soldiers felt themselves personally aggrieved 

that not a shot was fired into the thick of us as we broke in 

The palace was captured without the ghost of a resistance, and it 
was not immediately that we discovered that Amarat Rao, the prince, 
had, like a sly fox, given us the slip, and run away to some refuge, 
where, I suppose, he will at last be unearthed. He is accused openly 
of misgovernment, and privately, I believe, of plotting to get us 
hustled out of India, and to bring back the old halcyon period of war, 
robbery, and confiscation, wherein his ancestors throve mightily. My 
story, however, does not concern the fugitive Rajah, but some unknown 
English captive whom he secretly kept in durance vile, I need not 
say without legal warrant. When going over the deserted palace on 
duty, quite accidentally I chanced upon a room, large and richly 
decorated, in which one of the dark-skinned rascals in the Rajah’s 
service was busy in rubbing out some charcoal writing on a white 
wall. Ten minutes later, and 1 have no doubt every trace of the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


225 


prisoner would have been obliterated ; but, as it was, I saved the 
record from destruction, and 1 send you an exact copy of it, which I 
transferred to my note-book, and will copy for the second time in this 
letter. I imagine the writer of the inscription to be Walter Travis 
himself, and if so, to prove it would be to render a service to your 
friend Sir Richard Harrington, against whom ugly accusations of 
murder or manslaughter are current. What, however, has become of 
the poor fellow is another affair. Here are the words which I found 
yet legible on the wall — • 

“ c “Should these words of mine ever meet any English eyes 

a forlorn hope, but still I entreat that my countrymen will 

not untried Long months that seem years, so madden- 
ing ...... shut up here at the pleasure of a tyrant, whom of- 
fended without prospect of escape or of release my 

constant prayer captivity unless rescued help 

friends in England, who I think they are about to remove 

me to another place of confinement some obscure prison 

where ” 

“ ‘Here the remaining portion of the half-effaced inscription ceased. 
There was no finish, no signature, and, as I said, if I had appeared a 
little later on the scene, the prince’s black servant would have had 
time to blot out what survived of the appeal of this poor wretch, which 
seemed doubly pathetic to me because of the uncertainty that hangs 
over his fate. Of course, it is possible that Amarat Rao, in taking 
flight, may have carried off his captive along with him. It is equally 
possible that an inconvenient witness may have been suppressed in a 
more tragic w^ay. The attendants of an Indian Rajah are not over 
scrupulous, and dark deeds are easily hidden, in this country, from 
the light of day. What puzzles me, however, supposing the prisoner 
to have been Travis, is to account for the comparatively luxurious 
quarters in w'hich he w'as shut up, and the deference and respect with 
which he w r as evidently treated. It w r as the Man with the Iron Mask 
over again, and everything seemed to indicate that the occupant of 
that gorgeously-decorated chamber must have been a person of rank 
and consequence. And yet, if not Travis, I cannot possibly conjecture 
wdio the prisoner could be — ’ 

“ Heyday, Egeria, what is this ? ” 

The marquess might well ask, for now his daughter, 
usually so calm, cold, and impassive, was like some beau- 
tiful statue suddenly thawed into life and passionate 
emotion. 

She started to her feet ; her hands, clasped together, 
were flung above her head ; and with a deep, convulsive 
sob she almost screamed the words — - 

“ Oh, father, father ! suppose it should be Sir Lionel ?” 

“ Sir Lionel ! ” exclaimed the marquess, irate at this 
interruption. “ Stuff — nonsense ! How can it be Sir 

15 


226 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Lionel ? Why, did I not myself attend his funeral, and a 
very handsome funeral it was ; and now they talk this 
rubbish about one Walter Travis, as if it were possible he 
should have been buried in the family vault of the Har- 
ringtons. And here is that silly fop, Lord Alfred, writing 
that Walter Travis has been scrawling some nonsense on 
the walls of an Indian Rajah’s palace, and here are you 
now telling me that it is Sir Lionel who has written these 
words ” — slapping the open letter with his hand — “when 
Sir Lionel is dead and buried in the family vault at Grey- 
stone. I really am tired of all this.” 

And as he spoke he turned towards the door to leave 
the room. 

Lady Egeria, who had sunk back among the silken 
cushions of her seat during this tirade, to which she offered 
no word of reply, cried out, with a sob — 

“ Father, leave me Alfred’s letter; I should like to read 
it again.” 

The marquess tossed the letter angrily upon the table, 
and was once more proceeding to leave the room, when 
he was again arrested by hearing his daughter ejaculate in 
an undertone, as if speaking to herself — 

“ If Harold would but seek him out for my sake ; if 

Harold would but go there ” 

The marquess bounded like a horse touched by the 
spur. 

“ Go there ? Go to India, I suppose you mean ! ” cried 
he, furious for once in his genial, good-humored existence. 
“This is too bad of you, Egeria, to want to take my son 
from me just as I have got him back ; just as he has come 
to his senses, and is beginning to take to English life and 
his duties. If once you start him off on a wild-goose chase 
like this, I shall never see my boy again — never, at any 
rate for years to come. It is too hard that he should be 
encouraged to resume his roaming life exactly when I 
hoped that he would stay with us always, and give up the 
blackamoors and barbarians among whom he has sown his 
wild oats by this time, surely. What are these Harringtons 
to me, or to you, that you should want Norham to go out 
again to that infernal country, which I sincerely wish, for 
one, had never been heard of? I say it is too bad ! ” 

He paused for no reply, but bounced out of the room as 
he concluded, shutting the door with a slam, and growling 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


227 


out irritable remarks beneath his breath as he went fuming 
down the stairs, in a worse temper than any living soul had 
ever noted in the kindly master of Hurst Royal. 

Left alone, Lady Egeria took up the letter, and tried to 
read it for herself; but those beautiful blue eyes of hers 
were swimming in tears, and the writing before her was to 
her vision blurred and indistinct. 

Then she rose to her feet, and, carrying the open letter 
in her hand, passed in her turn down the grand staircase, 
and repaired to the billiard-room, where, as she expected, 
she found her brother, with half-shut eyes, smoking medi- 
tatively, as he lounged among the cushions of the divan. 

“Something wrong, Egeria?” asked Lord Norham, 
kindly, as he threw down his cigar. 

“ Read this — read it, Harold ! ’’-she gasped out, giving 
him the letter as she spoke. 

He looked at her with some surprise, and still more so 
when at last her composure deserted her, and she broke 
out into wild and passionate weeping, she so cold and 
proud before the world at large, so that her good-natured 
brother was affected by the sight of her distress. 

“ Egeria, my sister, there — sit down by me, and let us 
see what can be done ; but, for heaven’s sake, do not give 
way to grief like this. Give me time, at any rate, tc read 
this letter, since it seems to explain things.” 

It cost Egeria Fitzurse a cruel struggle to keep down 
the outburst of sorrow that had been evoked by the recent 
tidings. She waited patiently, sobbing low, while her 
brother read and re-read the letter, and then she turned 
her tear-stained face towards him. Lord Norham looked 
at her with the kind, grave smile that was peculiar to him, 
and refolded the letter. 

“ What, Harold, do you think of — this ? ” she asked, 
trembling, and with a beseeching accent in her voice. 

“ Well, Egeria, I think as you do,” was the good-natured 
reply. “ I think that the poor fellow is alive. That, at 
any rate, seems to me the most probable solution of the 
enigma. Mark me, I give no assurance. I only say what 
I think. But, if you like, I will go over there at once, and 
find him, if mortal man can do it.” 

“ Over there ” meant to India, and Lord Norham spoke 
of such a journey as coolly as another would have proposed 
a jaunt to London by a quick train. 


228 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


Lady Egeria flushed rosy red, and her eyes glittered 
with gladness. 

“ And would you really do so much, Harold, for my 
sake?’’ she said, gratefully. “ You are the dearest fellow 
in the world — the best of brothers. But papa will be so 
angry,” she added, in a rueful tone. 

Lord Norham laughed. 

“ Leave it to me,” he said, with his usual composure, 
“ to reconcile my father to the idea of my leaving him so 
soon. It shall not be for long. This trip will be nothing, 
absolutely nothing, to some of the weary marches in 
Central Africa, where the pilgrim’s thoughts travel in an 
inverse ratio of speed from that at which pack oxen and 
negro porters can be persuaded to move. I shall hope, 
soon, to be back at Hurst Royal — and, perhaps, not 
alone ! ” — he added, meaningly, and again Lady Egeria 
changed color as she laid her hand caressingly on her 
brother’s strong shoulder. 

Nothing was said on either side, and yet Lady Egeria 
was perfectly aware that her brother knew the cause of 
her emotion, and that it was because of such knowledge 
on his part that he was willing to undertake the toilsome 
expedition of which he spoke so lightly. 

Lord Norham was as good as his word. On the ensuing 
day he left Hurst Royal for India, and before he went he 
had managed, more for the sake of his sister’s domestic 
peace than for any personal reason, to half reconcile his 
vexed father to this sudden overturning of all his peaceful 
plans for home-staying happiness. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

THOSE LEFT BEHIND. 

Lord Norham was on his way to India, bent on cutting 
or unravelling the Gordian knot that had proved so sore a 
puzzle to all ; but in the meantime the little world of 
which Wortham was the centre went on with its own joys 
and hopes and griefs and cares as before. 

The recent storm of misfortune which had burst upon 
the ill-starred head of the young master of Greystone 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


229 


Abbey bad disturbed more households than one, but most 
of all that of the temporary chatelaine of Saxham Towers. 
The Begum, since the news of the appointment of the 
Government Commission of Inquiry, and of Sir Richard’s 
incarceration, had known neither peace nor rest. 

The beautiful Zenobia’s disposition was of a strangely 
mingled weft. Such strength of feelings, such fiery earnest- 
ness of passion, whether for good or ill, are rarely to be 
met with united to caprice and wilfullness like hers. It 
was for Sir Richard Harrington’s sake that she was in 
Europe. For him, and for him alone, had this brilliant 
tropical bird wandered to our colder regions, and tried to 
become acclimatized there. She had come, prepared to win 
him at any cost, by threats of exposure or by blandishments 
of honeyed sweetness, and she had found herself baffled by 
the diplomacy or the reserve of her former suitor. No 
suspicion that he whom she chose to consider as her 
affianced one was really in love with Lady Egeria Fitzurse 
had ever entered the mind of the Begum. 

Had it been so, Othello’s jealousy would hardly have 
been as fierce as hers ; but, as it was, the proud and 
passionate heart of Zenobia Stone had been spared such a 
pang. She had many acquaintances but not one intimate 
friend, and thus there was the less chance that such a 
rumor should have reached her ears. 

And then there was that too handsome Harry Red- 
mayne. In the very nick of time, just as her patience had 
been about to evaporate when confronted with the baron- 
et’s weak excuses and pleas for delay, had occurred the 
episode of the guardsman’s evident devotion to herself. 
Zenobia had been first flattered and then touched by this 
sudden homage on the part of one who had passed scath- 
less through the ordeal of repeated London seasons, and 
who was now at her feet, as the veriest boy might have 
been. 

In some respects the youthful heir of Old Court out- 
shone Sir Richard. He was handsome, brighter, and more 
of an ideal bridegroom than the moody lord of the old 
Abbey, with all his wealth of mines and acres. 

Old Court was a poor little property as compared with 
Greystone, but the Indian widow knew that the ready cash 
at her command would clear off the mortgages and double 
the value of the estate, while the Redmaynes were nearly 


230 


THE LAD Y EGERTA ; 


as distinguished a race, genealogically speaking, as the 
Harringtons themselves. She had almost made up her 
mind to give a favorable answer to the guardsman’s pro- 
posal, when the tidings came that the Greystone mauso- 
leum had been opened, and Sir Richard removed to 
Wortham gaol. 

Strangely enough, when the lady of Saxham Towers 
heard of the evil that had come upon her former admirer, 
the old love surged up again in her wayward heart, and 
with it a pity such as she had never felt before, in the 
course of her life of self-indulgence, for any created thing. 
She had not been sparing of her menaces, when fear seemed 
to her the surest spell to conjure by. She had even meant, 
should her faithless lover prove too stubborn, to revenge 
herself by bringing about his ruin and blighting his name. 
And now, without her aid, the ruin had come ; the name 
was blighted, and the once envied inheritor of the great 
Harrington estates was in prison awaiting his trial. And 
Zenobia, who once looked forward exultingly to such a 
catastrophe, was filled with womanly compassion, and 
thought more tenderly of the disgraced man than ever 
she had done when he could lift up his head among the 
loftiest. 

The oddest feature of the case was that she did not for 
a moment suppose him to be innocent. Lady Egeria, who 
did not love him, had not condemned him. But whoever 
else might doubt that there was blood upon his hand, 
Zenobia did not. Nor was she shocked at the notion that 
he should be guilty — her sense of right and wrong was not 
sensitive enough for that. But she gave him her pity and her 
sympathy, and forgot, as women sometimes will, that the 
calamity which had come upon him was due to his own 
conduct And she would have visited him in prison, com- 
promising to herself as such a step would have been, but 
Sir Richard had managed gracefully to decline an attention 
so embarrassing to himself. She wrote to him, however ; 
she championed his good name everywhere ; she affected 
a certainty that he was innocent, however formidable might 
be the weight of evidence against him. 

Two other persons, much mixed up with the late events, 
found themselves the objects of considerable notice on the 
part of those to whom their names were known. These were 
Jasper Holt and Miss Malstock. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT . 


231 


Respecting Mavina, opinions were divided. 

Honest Dr. Malstock had never quite got over the shock 
that his daughter’s dissimulation had occasioned. Himself 
the frankest of mankind, anything like perfidy disgusted 
him, and with every allowance for her motives, he could 
not entirely forgive Mavina for the deception she had prac- 
ticed on his confiding nature. 

Mrs. Malstock was a vehement partisan on the other 
side. All her sympathies were with her child. To her 
maternal judgment, Mavina was a heroine who had acted 
a noble part. Nor was the doctor’s wife by any means the 
only one to take this rose-colored view of her daughter’s 
behavior. The very ruthlessness with which she had helped 
to hunt Sir Richard down was held to be meritorious by 
sundry respectable persons who would never have dreamed 
of such proceedings on their own part, while the young 
men of Wortham eyed her with increased respect, and more 
than one set of verses found its way into the poets’ corner 
of a local newspaper. 

With acquaintances of a higher degree, Mavina found 
that what she had done was differently appreciated accord- 
ing to personal character. Thus from Old Court no more 
invitations reached her, nor did the Marquess of Cheviot 
sanction the presence at any gathering at Hurst Royal of 
a young lady whom he had learned to dislike most cor- 
dially. But Lady Egeria had not withdrawn her friendship 
from her protegee who had been bequeathed to her by the 
late marchioness, and had permitted her cream-colored 
ponies to be seen stopping at the doctor’s door even after 
the scene in Greystone church. And Lord and Lady 
Sparkleton, when at their country house for one of those 
improvised intervals of ruralizing which people of fashion 
now capriciously affect during the progress of their season 
in London, invited Mavina both to a matinee and to the 
grandest of grand dinners, and made much of her. 

“And I have a good mind to ask her to stay with us in 
town,” said Lady Sparkleton to somebody who afterwards 
repeated her words. “ I always like to have people about 
me who have done something queer. In London I never 
give anything large without making it a point to secure 
Captain Boxer, the traveler who wrote that horrible book 
of adventures that had such a run, you know. The great 
charm of the man was, of course, that he boasted of having 


232 


THE LADY EGER LA ; 


lived as a cannibal among cannibals. And Miss Malstock, 
though in a less degree, would be run after in London, I 
dare say.” 

And Jasper Holt’s name was buzzed from lip to lip, not 
always with respect or approbation, though regarding the 
Mill Lane lawyer there was also a controversy between 
lenient and hostile critics. There were those who held 
that his betrayal of his client, Sir Richard, was the crown- 
ing roguery of his knavish life, but there were others who 
found a good deal to say in extenuation of this breach of 
his professional duty. 

The bold little attorney carried it off with a high hand, 
and looked all comers fearlessly in the face. He was fluent 
of speech, and talked many listeners into believing that he 
had thrown over his employer because morality and con- 
science dictated the sacrifice, and that he deserved to be 
reckoned rather as a public benefactor than a mere traitor. 
With respect to the charge of having taken Sir Richard’s 
money to spend in doing his utmost to effect his ruin, Jas- 
per made ostentatious offers of accounting for every six- 
pence, to which neither Messrs. Tatham & Gudge nor their 
luckless principal had leisure or inclination to attend. He 
was more reticent, however, as to a cheque for a comfort- 
aide amount, drawn by Lord Cheviot, at his daughter’s 
request, without any questions on the part of the liberal 
marquess, and which had eventually passed through Ma- 
vina’s hands to those of Jasper Holt. 

Although Lady Egeria so faithfully performed her pro- 
mise to her humble friend of bearing the cost of the inquiry 
into the fate of the missing Walter Travis, she was far from 
siding with the persecutors of the master of Greystone 
Abbey. On the contrary, she did not credit the accusation 
against him. Zenobia Stone had jumped, so to speak, at 
the belief in his guilt. The daughter of the house of Fitz- 
ursc, sorely perplexed as to what judgment to form, judged 
him more mildly, and was disposed to consider him rather 
as a victim of circumstances than as a criminal. There 
had been, so she deemed, a duel in India, on which had 
been founded an unjust charge of foul murder against the 
present baronet. 

With regard to the baronet himself, the balance of public 
opinion was decidedly adverse. When the opening of the 
Harrington mausoleum was a thing of yesterday, there had 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


2 33 


arisen a popular outcry against the assassin who had cyni- 
cally ventured to conceal the corpse of his victim in his 
own family vault ; but presently an element of doubt was 
introduced into the case that set men, and women too, 
thinking for themselves. Tatham & Gudge had done 
their best for their hereditary client at this pinch. They 
were not themselves shining lights of law, but their London 
agents were Messrs. Pounce & Pontifex, of Lincoln’s Inn, 
of whom it is possible that some of my readers may have 
heard before, and who had long been the legal advisers of 
some of the greatest families in England. 

Mr. Pontifex, who was the real, if not the titular, head 
of the firm, had paid more than one flying visit to Wortham, 
and had retained, on Sir Richard’s behalf, the most 
eminent counsel attainable. They had made representa- 
tions to the authorities, too, which had had the effect of 
postponing the trial of the accused until there should be 
time for a fresh and impartial investigation of the events in 
India. 

As to those events in India, there was a wide divergence 
of ideas. It was held conclusive by all, perhaps, except 
that dear august old nobleman at Hurst Royal, that the 
body found in the Greystone vault was really that of Wal- 
ter Travis, as the verdict of the coroner’s jury affirmed it 
to be. The recognition of the remains had been too general 
and too positive to leave that a matter of debate. Minds 
like that of the marquess, which resist, and refuse to take 
in, a notion that is repugnant, are, fortunately, rare. 

Even Tatham & Gudge did not attempt to controvert 
the fact that Walter Travis, and not Sir Lionel Harrington, 
had been buried at Greystone as Sir Richard’s unfortunate 
brother. But they had set afloat a theory, accepted by not 
a few, and tending to exonerate the baronet. This was 
that, in the confusion occasioned by the skirmish in which 
young Sir Lionel had fallen, and by the pestilence that was 
mowing down its scores daily, one body had been substi- 
tued for another through the negligence or error of the 
native underlings employed, and thus Sir Richard had him- 
self been ignorant and innocent of all deception. 

When it came to that awkward question of the gunshot 
wound, the partisans of the owner of Greystone appealed, 
somewhat illogically, to the popular sentiment, which has 
never learned to regard duelling as murder, and, at the 


234 


THE LADY EGER LA ; 


same time, reminded all who would hearken to them that 
Sir Richard had consistently and energetically denied that 
he had ever been acquainted, for good or ill, with Walter 
Travis. And so wagged the Wortham world. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

NEMESIS. 

“ That fierce light which beats upon a throne ” does not, 
in this restless, prying nineteenth century of ours, shed 
its tell-tale glare exclusively upon royalty, or even on those 
personages who rank next to royalty. No one is safe who 
is not locked in the armor of proof that a clear conscience 
and a blameless past supply. 

And this was a lesson that Zenobia Stone, no less than 
her quondam admirer, Sir Richard Harrington, was soon 
to learn by the teachings of the bitter school of adversity. 

Between Wortham and Swaffham Regis was a house, 
pleasantly situated in well-wooded grounds, and which 
bore the name of Swaffham Rookery, on account of the 
colony of cawing rooks that dwelt among its pine trees. 

This house had recently been taken by a retired colonel, 
who had amassed rupees enough during the forty-five years 
of his Indian service to live at ease in England. He was 
a veteran officer of the old H.E.I.C.S. ; no other than 
Colonel Chutney, C.B., known and respected from Trichi- 
nopoly to Peshawur. 

The colonel was an excellent man, but a great gossip, 
and one who knew “all about” every notoriety in Anglo- 
Indian society. It so happened that he knew all about 
the Begum, and he was not chary in expressing his 
astonishment at finding a woman of her more than hazy 
antecedents received on equal terms by the jealous mag- 
nates of his wife’s native county. He told what were 
those antecedents, without fear or favor, to all who chose 
to listen. He related the origin of the late Mr. Stone’s 
fortune, the loans at cent, per cent, to struggling subal- 
terns, the opium smuggling off the coast of China, the 
slave dhows carrying their reeking cargoes of closely- 
packed black humanity from Africa to Persia and Arabia, 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


2 35 


and other shady speculations that had made the old rogue 
rich. He had the personal history of Mr. Stone’s wealthy 
widow at his fingers’ ends, recollected the French renegade, 
her father, and the Mussulman dancing girl, her mother ; 
and was able to describe pretty accurately her chequered 
life, her queer relatives on the maternal side, her rumored 
adventures, and the flavor of Oriental Bohemianism, so to 
speak, that clung to her name. 

Mrs. Chutney, too, had something to say. She knew 
how Mrs. Stone had been received once, and once only, 
by the Viceroy and his wife at Calcutta ; how the story of 
her career had followed her there, and caused her exclusion 
from a society which had, at first, taken her on trust ; and 
how similar social ostracisms had befallen her at Bombay, 
Agra, and Delhi, where the most good-natured of governors 
and generals had been obliged to strike her name off their 
list. 

“ It is a pity, too ! ” the colonel’s wife had said, in sum- 
ming up ; “ for she has some good qualities, I believe, and 
is generous to a fault ; but, poor thing ! her early life and 
education left her scarcely a chance of being respectable, 
and one must be careful as to the acquaintances one forms.” 

So felt the little-great world that had its centre in 
Wortham, and accordingly the Begum of Saxham Towers 
felt herself suddenly surrounded, morally, by a frigid 
atmosphere, such as that which is experienced by those on 
board some threatened vessel at sea when icebergs are 
approaching, and the fatal drift of the coming masses of 
floating crystal closes in. 

Mrs. Stone had been, from the first, tolerated, rather 
than approved of, by her neighbors ; and as soon as 
distinct charges were brought against her, she was tried 
and condemned. No longer did invitations pour in upon 
her, while those whom she asked to the Towers sent 
refusals, couched in the freezing terms which are only 
employed towards those whom we care not to conciliate. 
On neutral ground — as at some cricket match, or flower 
show, or volunteer review — the ladies of the county shrank 
from Zenobia like small birds from a soaring hawk ; while 
there came to be an indefinable lack of respect in the 
admiration still paid to her by the male sex. 

Of course, there were people sufficiently obtuse or ill- 
natured to drop hints to Zenobia herself of the reason for 


236 


THE LADY E CEE LA ; 


this change, and to inform her, more or less explicitly, of 
the nature of the allegations against her. She could not 
gainsay them. If here and there what was whispered 
reposed on a basis of fiction, there was still so much. of 
truth that she had not the power to refute as calumnies the 
stories against her. Harry Redmayne, in spite of all that 
his family could urge, was true to his allegiance ; but even 
that could not atone for the coldness of some, the actual 
hostility of others. The Begum was ill fitted to contend 
with adversity. Bitterly as she resented the bad opinion 
of the world around her, she did not feel within herself the 
resources that would have enabled her to cope with it. All 
became as Dead Sea apples to her taste, and she wished 
herself dead a hundred times a day, so rapidly did troubles 
and mortifications close around her. 

Meanwhile, Sir Richard Harrington was languishing in 
prison. His incarceration, so far, was not of a severe sort. 
Some regard had been paid to his rank and station, on 
account of which he was not compelled to herd with vulgar 
criminals awaiting trial. He was lodged in the governor’s 
house, and was exempt from some of the stringent rules 
of gaol discipline. But his existence was dreary indeed, 
shut up as he was in an upper chamber, sparely furnished, 
and the window of which commanded no prospect more 
cheerful than a paved courtyard, surrounded by high walls, 
into which, at stated periods, the inmates of the neighbor- 
ing prison were marched for exercise, under the surveil- 
lance of lynx-eyed warders. The baronet came to know 
by sight most of these gaol birds, who seemed to be but 
of two types. One of these was the boy thief, slinking 
or saucy, according to temperament ; the other the low- 
browed, scowling, heavy jowled tramp, sullenly expiating 
his misdeeds. 

Sir Richard almost grew envious of these latter, on 
account of the tough endurance which they displayed, and 
of the stolid philosophy of the uneducated man, who hated 
to think, and could always sleep when permitted. With 
them, it was only a question of hard labor and stinted 
rations and enforced abstinence from liquor and tobacco, 
but there were no moral tortures to aggravate their 
condition. 

The young lord of Grey stone suffered in a day more 
than these felonious stoics underwent during the term of 
their sentence. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT, 




The dull monotony of his colorless life left time for 
memory and self-reproach to rend him as the eagle tore the 
flesh of chained Prometheus. He came to dread the night, 
because of ghastly dreams ; and yet his waking hours were 
full of anxious cares and vain regrets. He was uncon- 
demned as yet, but he knew that before the bar of public 
opinion he had been already arraigned and found guilty. 
The one ennobling sentiment of his life had been his love 
for Lady Egeria Fitzurse. He felt now that she was as 
hopelessly beyond his reach as were the stars that shone 
down from heaven, and of which he caught a glimpse 
sometimes through the square window of his dismal room. 
There was not a friend on whose kindly judgment of him 
he could rely. Clever lawyers had been engaged for his 
defence, but they, too, thought ill of a client who seemed 
to have no heart even in his own cause, and who was 
strangely reticent as to his past life and the nature of 
events that had led to the accusation against him. 

“ My sin has found me out ! ” such were the bitter words 
of the baronet’s not infrequent soliloquy. “Yes, so it is. 
I cannot, as the saying is, come into court with clean 
hands. There is a stain on mine that can never be washed 
away. True, those who perished that I might prosper 
were of small account — a parcel of dusky heathens ; but 
yet their blood cries out against me from the thirsty ground, 
and not theirs alone. That man of whom, by some irony 
of fate, they call me the murderer, seems to haunt me. 
And vet I never harmed him. And yet I am innocent of 
what they charge against me, strong as are the proofs that 
weigh me down. It is a mockery that I — I who have done 
so much, and have trodden such crooked paths, that I, 
forsooth, might be the master of Greystone and its lands 
— should be placed in the dock on account of the death of 
yonder roving adventurer ! I never knew the man — much 
less slew him ! But my brother — yes, now, indeed, my 
hidden sin has found me out, and I am desolate beyond all 
men. Would that I might die and be forgotten 1 ” 

Sir Richard had aged very much since the storm of mis- 
fortune had burst upon him. There were threads of silver 
now streaking his crisp brown hair, and there were lines 
on his brow. His haggard eyes of late had assumed the 
restless look that we note in those of some hunted creature, 
and he was wan and pale. Orestes himself, the matri- 


23 s 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


cide given over to the grim pursuit of tire Furies, had not » 
more uneasy pillow than he. A score of times during the 
night he started from his fitful slumbers to pace to and fro 
in his prison chamber, or to gaze forth from the barred 
window at the driving clouds and the dark pavement of 
the paved yard beneath. 

His words were but too true. His sin had found him 
out, and he was to know rest and peace no more. What 
availed him his wealth or his standing in the county of 
which for centuries his forefathers had been magnates ? 
He knew that he was a broken man . that a blight was on 
his name that nothing could remove. Even a technical 
verdict of acquittal would not clear him with the world. 
And of such a verdict, in spite of the forensic renown of 
the advocates who were to plead for him, he had but faint 
hopes. His sin, indeed, had found him out, and Nemesis, 
though with halting steps, had overtaken him at last. 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

LORD NORHAM JOINS IN. 

In Futtehpore, far away, there were bustle and excite- 
ment. For now the secret of Amarat Rao’s refuge, long 
kept dark by the sullen fidelity of his retainers, had been 
divulged, and an expeditionary force was being got ready 
to bring the recalcitrant vassal of the Supreme Government 
to bay. It was fully ascertained that the Rajah and the 
few desperate followers who clung to him in his fallen state 
had ensconced themselves in a stronghold on the borders of 
his territory, and about eighteen koss, or thirty-six miles 
by English measurement, distant from the capital he had 
deserted. And there was much heartburning and dis- 
appointment on the part of those who were not selected 
for the expedition from the cantonments of Futtehpore, so 
welcome is anything which varies the humdrum character, 
in times of peace, of military life in India. 

The general, no doubt, exercised a wise discretion as to 
the component parts of the force that was preparing to 
set out. There was a due proportion of native infantry, 
the wing of a European regiment, the light company of the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


239 


Highland corps in camp, the sappers, a strong contingent 
of artillery, including a battery of mountain guns, and, for 
patrolling purposes, a squadron of cavalry, to which Lord 
Alfred Mortimer contrived somehow to get himself attached. 

The marquess’ nephew took somewhat of a personal 
interest in the quest of the runaway Rajah, since he it was 
who had discovered, on the occasion of the storming of the 
palace, the writing on the wall which proved the illegal 
captivity of some European victim of Oriental tyranny. 
Lord Alfred, like most others who had heard the story, 
connected in his own mind this writing with the mysterious 
fate of that Walter Travis, whose death was notoriously 
laid at the door of Sir Richard Harrington. And the 
titled subaltern, well aware of the long intimacy that had 
existed between the families dwelling at Hurst Royal and 
Greystone Abbey, trusted to be instrumental in clearing 
the reputation of the accused baronet from its present state 
of obloquy. 

That Amarat Rao was to be hunted down was certain. 
The simplest rules of prudent policy made such a course 
incumbent on the higher powers. The deposed Rajah was 
known, or suspected, to be in constant, if secret, com- 
munication with other chiefs disaffected towards British 
sway, and to be striving still to make himself the moving 
spirit of a confederation of native rulers. It would never 
do to allow the standard of revolt to be unfurled with 
impunity, even on so small a scale. An example must be 
made ; and hence the necessity for prompt action. No 
one seriously believed in the probability of a wide-spread 
rising. But it is well to avoid whatever may unsettle the 
minds of Indian princes and their ministers, and it was 
not forgotten that the ex- Rajah’s family had high hereditary 
claims to leadership in that part of the swarming peninsula. 
The sooner the rebel could be reduced to reason the better. 

On the day preceding that appointed for the march, a 
traveler, fresh from England, reached Futtehpore. This, 
as may easily bj conjectured, was no other than the heir 
apparent to the Marquisate of Cheviot. Hasty as had 
been Lord Norham’s departure from his native country, he 
had found time in London to call at the Indian Office and 
to provide himself with credentials which would have 
ensured, even to a less distinguished applicant, all possible 
aid and countenance from the authorities in India. But 


240 


THE LADY EGER J A : 


even without such letters, Lord Norham’s name would, 
probably, have been enough. As it was, the newly- 
arrived traveler met with the most courteous reception at 
the Residency, and was well received also at headquarters 
by the general in command, who readily acceded to his 
request to be allowed to accompany the expedition. 

“ And indeed, my lord, I wish I were ganging myself,” 
remarked the tough old brigadier, whose Argyleshire accent 
had remained unsoftened by three-and-forty chequered 
years of military service. “ But that would be to pay too 
high a compliment to that unchancy chiel, Amarat Rao, 
after his moonlight flitting. It’s just a mere meelitary 
promenade, but it may be worth your lordship’s while to 
witness it, for the curiosity of the thing. There’ll be no 
fighting, but the place is gey hard to take, unless the 
weather continues to be dry and hot, as it is now, and 
even that you can’t rely upon in those elevated regions as 
you can down here in the plains.” 

Lord Norham’s only answer was an inquiring look, and 
the general, glad of a new listener, went on to explain the 
meaning of his previous speech— 

“Ye see, my lord, the place to which this landlouper of 
a Rajah has thought fit to flee is just a hill fort on the 
borders of his country that they call the Vulture’s Rock, 
and really the name befits it. I mind the tower well, 
though when I saw it I was a griffin here, a raw subaltern, 
wasting my time and good gunpowder on snipe and deer. 
A wild spot enough, and a barren one, lying, as it does, 
half-way to the clouds, and among rough crags and pebbly 
nullahs — as desolate a nook as any in India. The strong- 
hold itself was built by Sultan Tippoo — Tippoo Sahib, as 
you call him in England — in some old war, and would be 
almost impregnable but for the want of water. The weak- 
ness of the defence, my lord, consists simply in the fact 
that no well or spring exists, and that the garrison must 
depend on rain to keep tank and cistern full. This 
parching weather, if the hot wind holds, must soon bring 
the puir benighted heathen creatures to sue for terms.” 

It was settled, then, that Lord Norham was to have the 
privilege of accompanying the expedition, and the newly- 
arrived traveller at once began his preparations for the 
brief campaign. There was much to do in the remaining 
hours before nightfall, since the march was fixed for day^ 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


2 \\ 

break, and the heir of Hurst Royal had no one with him 
save his Italian valet, Antonio, who had followed the 
fortunes of his roving master through rougher regions and 
more barbarous races than those by which he was now 
surrounded. There were servants and coolies and tent 
lascars to hire, camp equipage to purchase, stores to lay 
in, and baggage animals to procure ; for India is a country 
of many wants, and these had to be provided for in the 
briefest possible space of time. 

Lord Alfred Mortimer, who was delighted to greet the 
kinsman of whom he had heard so much and seen so little, 
lent what assistance he could, and was astonished at the 
promptitude with which Lord Norham’s well-supplied 
purse and resolute will solved the problem of how to be 
quickly ready for the road. 

“ You agree with me, then, that the writing on the wall 
must have a good deal to do in any case with this awkward 
affair of Sir Richard’s Harrington’s? ” said Lord Alfred, as 
he sat, with a lighted cheroot between his lips, in his own 
quarters, after dinner, in company with his freshly-arrived 
cousin. 

“ A good deal to do with it, no doubt,” ambiguously 
replied Lord Norham, stroking his brown beard. 

“ It is perfectly clear,” pursued the titled subaltern, 
“ that if this fellow Travis is alive after all, as there is 
every reason to conclude, the accusation of murder falls to 
the ground, and the only wonder is why the Rajah should 
have kept him locked up so long, and what the object of 
his imprisonment could be, unless it were done out of pure 
malice, and to cast suspicion on that unlucky baronet. 
And rumor says that Harrington was in high favor at the 
palace during his stay here, which makes the affair odder 
still.” 

“ Very odd,” tranquilly responded Lord Norham, lighting 
a second cigar. He had his own ideas as to the identity 
of the Rajah’s mysterious captive, but he preferred to 
keep them to himself. In his eyes, the scion of the ducal 
house of Mortimer was simply a good-natured, feather- 
pated youngster, by whose opinion he set little store. But 
assuredly he would not himself have come out from Eng- 
land for no purpose but that of being confronted by the 
missing Walter Travis. Of Lady Egeria’s motives and 
his own, then, he said nothing, but let Lord Alfred rattle 

16 


242 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


on concerning English sport and English society, the 
London season then in progress, the Derby that had been, 
and the races at Ascot, Goodwood and Doncaster, that 
were to be ; the crack yachts that were to figure in the 
Cowes Regatta, the grouse shooting in Perthshire, and the 
steeplechase at Liverpool. 

Lord Norham laughed grimly as his young relative came 
to a pause in his discourse. 

“ Upon my word,” he said, “ you are far better posted 
up in all these matters, Mortimer, than I am. To be sure, 
I never book a bet, and am scandalously ignorant of the 
current odds, and even of the names of these equine 
favorites for cups and stakes that you seem to know so 
well. Mine is a hermit’s life, if a wandering one, and the 
Belgravian world gets on, no doubt, wonderfully well with- 
out me. I should be as out of my element at Newmarket 
as in Mayfair, and my little yacht, the Moonbeam , has 
never competed yet for any prize, and only suits for 
knocking about among the fiords and islets of Norway. 
But I think Ell say * good-night ’ now, for even I am tired 
for once, and we, both of us, have to be afoot early to- 
morrow, since we march at dawn.” 


CHAPTER XLY. 

THE VULTURE’S ROCK. 

“ This is the place, sahibs,” said the smart young sergeant 
of Irregular Cavalry who acted as guide to the advanced 
guard, wheeling his fiery horse, and saluting with his sabre, 
as the crest of the pass was reached ; and yonder, where 
the white stones of the masonry gleam against the dark 
rock, and the path winds upwards like a snake amongst the 
green bushes, is the vulture’s home of prey.” 

The group of mounted officers who led the way reined 
up their steeds at once, and field glasses were adjusted and 
passed from hand to hand. 

“ I am a civilian, and as such I suppose that my opinion 
does not count for much,” said Lord Norham smiling ; “ but 
otherwise I should pronounce the position a strong one, and 
admirably selected.” 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


243 


“ I quite agree with you, my lord/’ replied a senior officer 
as he examined the hostile fortress through his glass; “a 
hard nut to crack, even in these days of improved artillery, 
and must have been quite impregnable in the last century, 
when only howitzers and smooth-bored cannon could have 
been used against it. And I don’t see now how we are to 
take it, except by blockade. An assault would be sheer 
madness, and even if successful, would cost more lives than 
the place is worth.” 

Seen from that spot, the Vulture’s Rock presented a 
grim and imposing aspect. At some distance from the 
narrow mountain road a bold peak rose steeply, and was 
crowned by the low tower and the other buildings of the 
stronghold. On the keep itself a red flag, the symbol of 
revolt, had been hoisted, but the day was a still one, and 
the silken banner hung down, like a trail of blood, against 
the white flagstaff. Above the battlements a few turbaned 
heads, and here and there the glitter of a spear point or a 
matchlock barrel, could be discerned, while from the square 
stone embrasures peeped forth at regular intervals the 
threatening muzzles of the brass cannon, and the low, deep 
sound of the beating of a large drum, evidently calling those 
within to arms, showed the scanty garrison to be on the 
alert, and left no doubt that Amarat Rao and his followers 
were perfectly well aware of the proximity of the force 
that had been despatched against them. 

“ Yes, noble sahib, I know the country well,” said the 
turbaned officer of Irregulars, in reply to a question from 
Lord Alfred, “ and no wonder, seeing that my native 
village is but a short distance off, on the other side of these 
unblessed mountains. And I have heard my father and 
my grandsire, who were soldiers too, and of course believers 
like myself, talk of Sultan Tippoo’s fort and its strength, 
and how it had beaten off the choicest troops of those in- 
fidel dogs the Mahrattas. 

Some of the younger officers, with the rashness of in- 
experience, grumbled at the prudent policy of their elders, 
and would have risked all on the result of a shower of war- 
rockets and a rush with the bayonet. It was clear, however, 
to those whose heads were cooler, that the stormers in such 
a case would be mowed down li*ke corn before the sickle, 
and, besides, the general’s orders had been too explicit to 
permit such useless waste of life. 


244 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


“ Patience, my young friends, whether we like it or not, 
must be the order of the day,” remarked the major, who 
had spoken before. “We have got to invest the place as 
if it were a second Plevna, and must wait until those inside 
open the doors to let us in, which, to judge by present 
appearances, they are not inclined to do,” he added, as 
a defiant burst of barbaric music, drums, clarions, and 
cymbals, in unison, reached the ears of the gazers, while 
a sudden puff of wind filled the crimson folds of the banner 
drooping against the flagstaff, and caused the red flag to 
display itself as in response to the flourish of the trumpets 
and the beating of the drums. Then there was a flash of 
flame and a gush of white smoke from the ramparts, and 
next the rattling down of loose stones and rubbish as the 
shot that had been fired struck the splintered rock wall to 
the right of the road. 

It took some time for the lengthy and straggling column, 
with its baggage train and the long line of hangers on, to 
complete the ascent of the pass, and night fell before the 
work of forming the encampment was fully effected. At 
last, however, tents were pitched and fires lighted, while 
strong pickets had been posted in outlying positions, so as 
to prevent the fugitive prince from again seeking safety in 
flight. 

“ I wonder,” said Lord Norham, more to himself than 
to his young kinsman, as they strolled together through 
the outskirts of the camp, “ whether the prisoner on 
the rock above can catch a glimpse of the fires below, and 
knows that they forbode that rescue is near at hand.” 

“ Perhaps he may, poor fellow ! ” was Lord Alfred’s 
answer ; “and I hope, for his sake, that the day of liberation 
may be soon. But his position is an awkward one. It is 
not pleasant to feel that one’s life depends on the caprice 
of a whimsical Oriental despot like that precious Rajah, 
who may order him to be strangled or stabbed when things 
are at their worst.” 

“ I forgot that ! ” returned Lady Egeria’s brother, in an 
altered voice, and flinging away his unfinished cigar ; “ yes, 
it is hard to lie defenceless within reach of a dying tiger.” 

The three next days went by without any notable event. 
A flag of truce, with a summons to surrender, had been sent 
up to the castle. But the only answer had been an insult- 
ing blare of trumpets and. clamor of kettle-drums, and 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


245 


when the messenger attempted to approach nearer to the 
gates the flag was fired upon. Meanwhile, the besiegers 
had difficulties to contend with. The spot chosen for their 
encampment was out of reach of the heavy cannon of the 
iort, but the locality proved even drier than had been ex- 
pected, and hundreds of coolies, laden with water skins, 
had to struggle incessantly up the steep and stony track, 
to keep up the supply necessary for men and animals in the 
camp. The sappers had plenty to do, since rocks had to 
be bored and blasted, and thorny shrubs and moraines of 
loose stones cleared away, before it became possible to 
advance even the light mountain battery of guns near 
enough to the defences to be in any way efficient. From time 
to time the roar of the brass cannon on the ramparts, and 
the reverberation of the sound from the sullen echoes of 
the caverned cliffs, told that the fortress held out, in spite of 
odds, to the last. 

The weather was uncertain. The nights, as usual in 
Asia, and especially at such a height above the sea, were 
keen and frosty, so that some of the ill-provided camp 
followers suffered much from cold. The days were hot, 
but around some distant peaks of the mountain range 
gathered leaden-colored masses of cloud that seemed 
fraught with rain. The setting in of such rain, falling in the 
profusion customary in those sub-tropical regions, meant 
security, for a time at least, to the defenders of the fort, 
and equally, as a matter of course, the discomfiture of the 
expedition. How must those desperate men who had 
shared the flight of their prince, and now stood by him on 
the Vulture's Rock, have looked with longing eyes at the 
dark cloud masses on the horizon, hoping that the break- 
ing up of the hot weather, accompanied by torrents of rain, 
would replenish the scanty store of water, and render their 
position tenable. 

Nature was obdurate, however. The weather con- 
tinued dry and the sun scorchingly hot, and not a drop of 
rain fell on the bare rocks and parched nullahs around. 
The dense array of dark clouds, after lingering as if to 
tantalize the thirsting gazers from the battlements, rolled, 
heavily off and disappeared towards the southward. And 
still the long line of water carriers came toiling up the hill 
road, bringing supplies to the camp, while the mountain 
battery had at last been got into working order, and had 


246 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


opened fire on the fort, but without producing any percep- 
tible effect upon the solid masonry and rock-hewn ram- 
parts which protected it. 

“ Good news, Norham ! ” exclaimed Lord Alfred, burst- 
ing excitedly into the tent. “ The game is played out, 
and the trick done. Don’t you hear our fellows cheering, 
— there, again ! The black beggars have hauled down 
their red flag and hoisted a white one in its place, and 
have flung the gates open, in token of surrender. It only 
remains for us to march in, so be quick ! ” 

Very strange, at that noontide hour, with the fierce sun 
blazing high in the cloudless heavens, was the aspect of the 
Vulture’s Rock when the advance of the British force 
poured in through the open gates. The soldiers of the 
Rajah’s small garrison preserved a manly attitude as their 
conquerors marched in, with bugle sound and frequent 
cheering, and stood like so many bronze statues, with 
hands lifted to their turbans, gravely saluting the victorious 
foe. They had laid their weapons on the ground, with 
the hilts of their swords and the butt ends of their fire- 
locks turned outwards, and with sullen eyes waited pas- 
sively. 

“ Thirst, against which none can fight, has overcome 
us ! ” pithily remarks the Sirdar, with a bow, as he gave 
up his jewelled scimitar, in sign of submission, to the offi- 
cer of rank who led the van. 

“ The place,” remarked an engineer officer to Lord 
Norham, as they pressed on, “ is even stronger than I- 
thought. Woolwich Infants and heavy charges would be 
needed to breach such walls, which are, as you see, my 
lord, actually hewn out of the living rock, and of enor- 
mous thickness. 

In the principal chamber, or hall of dais, crouching, 
like a haunted tiger, among the silken cushions of his gor- 
geous divan, and forsaken by all, Amarat Rao was found 
alone. He had exchanged his usual garb of spotless white 
for the dark blue robes which high-caste natives don in 
token of mourning, and only the gemmed dagger in his 
shawl girdle and the jewels on his high cap indicated his 
rank. There was a dull glow, as of impotent rage, in his 
dark eyes, but his attitude was one of utter dejection. 

“ We were obliged,” whispered the Sirdar of the Rajah’s 
troops to the English commander, “ to mutiny, and to put 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


247 


him under restraint, since he desired, in his fury, to set 
fire to the powder in the magazine and to send us all to 
Jehanum before our time. But we were faithful to our 
salt, until to resist further became madness. Not one of 
us has had a drop of water to moisten his parched throat 
for more than two days and nights, sahib colonel ! ” 

The major of engineers accosted the Rajah with the 
civility due to misfortune, and bade him to have no fear 
as to his personal treatment. 

There came a sudden flash of rage from the dark eyes 
of the fallen prince. 

“ Take my jika of sovereignty ! ” he exclaimed, tearing 
the royal turban with its jewelled aigrette of heron feathers 
from his head. “ And take my life too, if you will. But 
for those cravens who flinched from me at the last I 
should at least have died a man’s death, but you are mas- 
ters now.” 

Then he resumed his former dogged silence, and refused 
to reply, by word or look, to any of the questions which 
were addressed to him. 

A supple figure, clad in white, now glided up to the major 
of engineers, and salaamed profoundly as he said — 

“ I am the humblest of your slaves, sahib major, but 
a little lamp throws light, and I can lead you to the 
place where a countryman of your own lies in durance, 
and can tell you better than he can how he came to be 
there.” 

“ Who are you, my fine fellow ? ” demanded the major. 

“ I am Motee, long the confidential servant of him who 
was yesterday our Rajah,” answered the man, with a bow 
and a smile ; “ and if you will follow me, sahibs, I will 
show you where the bird is caged.” 

Ted by Motee, a group of officers, amidst whom where 
Lord Norham and his kinsman, rapidly traversed the 
narrow passages and dimly-lighted halls of the fortress, and 
then descended a few steps cut in the rock, and which led 
to a postern. This once opened, a small courtyard was 
revealed, above which the bare rock rose steeply on three 
sides, while on the fourth was the wall of the fort. The 
court, with its weed-grown stones, seemed useless and 
neglected. Motee approached the rock to the eastward, 
and laid his hand upon it, touching, no doubt, some spring 
abnost imperceptible, for immediately a door, cunningly 


248 


THE LADY EGERTA ; 


concealed, flew open, and disclosed a small chamber ex- 
cavated in the serpentine rock on which the fortress was 
built, and which only received light and air from a fissure, 
natural or artificial, above. On the rocky floor, strewn 
with rice straw, was a mattress of striped silk, on which, 
covered by a trooper’s mantle of coarse cloth, lay a human 
form, richly dressed in Oriental fashion. 

“Is he dead or alive?” exclaimed Lord Norham, 
anxiously, and then, as the prostrate figure moved, and a 
haggard face was turned towards the doorway, through 
which the light streamed in : “alive, I see ! and — yes, by 
Heaven, it is Lionel Harrington ! ” 

“ Yes, that is my name ! ” answered the captive feebly, 
as he strove to rise. 


' CHAPTER XLVI. 

THE RESCUE. 

There was a loud outburst of voices exclaiming in pity, 
wonder, and indignation, as the Rajah’s captive was 
recognized, and as he answered to the name by which Lord 
Norham had addressed him. Every officer at Futtehpore 
had heard some rumors concerning the European prisoner 
whom the fugitive prince had so mysteriously carried off 
when he sought refuge on the Vulture’s Rock ; but most 
of them had concluded this victim of Oriental tyranny 
to be the missing Walter Travis. A far deeper interest 
attached to that other Englishman, whose supposed death 
had long been established in popular credence, and who 
was now so confidently identified with the solitary occu- 
pant of the chamber hidden in the rock. 

“ He speaks the truth, worthy sahibs,” obsequiously 
interjected Motee, who was evidently anxious to earn the 
good-will of the winning party ; “ and I — your poor ser- 
vant — can lay open before you every detail in the black 
business through which you find him here.” 

“ But he is ill ; perhaps dying ! ” exclaimed Lord Nor- 
ham and his kinsman, who were kneeling beside the now 
recumbent figure on the silken pallet. 

“He is faint, sahibs ; and no wonder ! ” replied Motee 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


249 


in a low voice, and in an apologetic manner ; “since he 
has had neither food nor water for more than two days ; 
nay, it is nearly three. Such were the commands of 
Amarat Rao when the water ran short in the tank. The 
Rajah chose that the prisoner should be the first to 
suffer. I shared my last cupful with him, Feringhce as he 
was.” 

The rescued captive was carried into the fort, and placed 
in a room comfortably furnished, which in time of peace 
formed a portion of the governor’s quarters. But it was 
necessary to wait until water, as well as wine and cordials, 
and food, too, had been brought up from the camp below, 
and cautiously administered under the sanction of the 
medical officer in attendance, before it was thought safe 
to allow of any conversation between the prisoner and 
those who had him in their care. 

Of these, Lord Norham and Lord Alfred, as acquainted 
with his family, were the chief ; and in their hands, and in 
those of the doctor, he was left. The other officers had 
their work to do. Guards had to be set over the powder 
magazine, and provision made for the safe custody of 
Amarat Rao, while it was necessary to relieve the wants, 
as well as to ensure the good behavior, of the starving 
garrison. 

“ They treated me well at first,” said the Rajah’s late 
prisoner, when, after some refreshment and repose, the 
doctor considered that he was fit to talk, “ and with a 
studied respect that was often galling, since it was coupled 
with a tacit refusal to enlighten me as to the cause of 
my imprisonment. The servants and soldiers whom I 
saw never mentioned their master’s name, but I was pretty 
sure that it was to Amarat Rao that I owed my incarcera- 
tion. When they removed me to this place, the tyrant’s 
mood had changed, and instead of being luxuriously housed 
as before, I was thrust into a veritable dungeon, where, 
but for your arrival, I should doubtless have been left to 
die.” 

Lord Norham felt that a difficult task was before him. 
From several chance expressions he perceived that the 
rescued captive was quite unconscious of the true motive of 
his persecutors, and yet the truth had to be broken to him 
as gently as it might. 

“ The last thing I remember,” said Sir Lionel Harring- 


250 


THE LADY E GEE LA ; 


ion, “ of the confused events of the skirmish, was that I 
was unhorsed and struggling to get my sword arm free, 
when some one from behind dealt me a stunning blow 
upon the head — perhaps with the butt end of a pistol — and 
then everything grew dark. When I recovered my senses, 
I was already shut up in the chamber that I continued to 
inhabit till I was removed from the palace, and on the 
wall of which I wrote some words in our own language, in 
the half futile hope that English eyes might one day behold 
them.” 

“ It so chanced, when we took military possession of 
the palace, that I was the finder,” remarked Lord Alfred, 
smiling; “little dreaming at the time who was the real 
writer of that appeal for aid.” 

“ 1 only wonder,” pursued Sir Lionel, “ that I did not go 
mad in solitary confinement in that place, cut off, not only 
from human intercourse, but from books and newspapers, 
and every link with the outer world. It was a terrible 
time, as you may well believe. And, Lord Norham, I had 
an additional source of grief, in remembering what must 
be the distress of my poor brother Richard, who no doubt 
mourned me as dead.” 

Lord Alfred fidgeted and looked nervous, while Lord 
Norham shook his head. 

“You have much to learn, Sir Lionel,” he said, with 
grave kindness, “ and I assure you that the duty of un- 
deceiving you on some points is a very painful one to me, 
but there is no help for it. It will be news to you to hear 
that my own father attended, as he believed, your funeral 
at Greystone, when the coffin, brought from India by your 
brother, whom all considered as the baronet, was laid in 
the family vault.” 

The listener started, and a flush rose to his pale cheek. 
“ How could such a mistake be possible — and to Richard, 
too ? ” 

“ The coffin was not empty,” answered Lord Norham, 
“ but it contained, as subsequent examination proved, the 
remains of a man who in age and stature bore some 
resemblance, Sir Lionel, to yourself, and whose name, per- 
haps known to you, was Walter Travis.” 

“Travis — Walter Travis!” murmured Sir Lionel, as if 
consulting his memory ; “ yes, I have some recollection 
of the name, and of the bearer of it ; though I only saw 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


25 1 

him casually once, a wandering European I think, who 
got into the Rajah’s household.” 

“ Your account of the man is quite correct,” answered 
Lord Norham ; “ but it so happened that Walter Travis, 
who was poor, but by birth a gentleman, and born in the 
county to which we both belong, had friends at home who 
instituted a search for him when he ceased to write, and 
who attributed his death to foul play, so that — excuse me 
— they taxed your brother with having made away with 
him.” 

“ I am sure Richard never knew — never harmed — the 
man ! ” exclaimed Sir Lionel, surprised and indignant. 

“ I, too, feel convinced of that,” drily rejoined Lord 
Norham, “ thought I am bound to say that the circum- 
stantial evidence on which Sir Richard, as we call him, was 
accused, well warranted such a belief. There was a duel, 
not fairly fought, in which Travis received a wound that 
perhaps hastened his death when cholera laid its fatal grip 
upon him. But I am by no means sure that your brother 
was the officer by whose bullet the wound was inflicted, 
though he certainly, in concert with his friend and fellow 
plotter, Amarat Rao, availed himself of Travis’ death by 
placing the body of the poor wretch in the coffin that was 
to be carried home to England as yours, and thus ” 

“ Hold, hold ! My Lord Norham, you seem to forget 
that it is of my own brother — of dear Richard — that you 
speak ! ” exclaimed Sir Lionel, gasping for breath, and 
growing paler than before, so that the doctor muttered 
something about over excitement; “would you have me 
consider you as poor Dick’s avowed enemy ? ” 

“ I am not that, nor is my cousin Norham here,” 
blurted out Lord Alfred, unable to keep silence ; “ and 
yet it’s a true bill. There cannot be a doubt, I am sorry 
to say, that Mr. Richard Harrington was in league with 
the rascally Rajah throughout, that the pair of confede- 
rates devised to attack the convoy, that what you took to 
be robbers were really Amarat Rao’s troopers in disguise, 
and that you were hustled into the palace and locked up 
there, while the body of Walter Travis was coffined and 
taken to Greystone, just to throw dust in people’s eyes 
and ensure Sir Richard’s succession to the title and 
estates. Of course, he had to pay blackmail pretty smartly 
to his Indian accomplice. Motee, the servant, has just 


252 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


confessed to us his share in the fraud, and has told us how 
the Rajah drew bills upon your brother to an inconceiva- 
ble extent, more than once, sure that the cash would be 
forthcoming rather than a scandal should ensue. Then 
came suspicion, as to the murder of Travis I mean, and 
the mausoleum and the coffin were opened, and that by 
special authority from Government, and Sir Richard lies 
in prison, awaiting Ins trial on account of Travis’ alleged 
murder.” 

“ Of which I trust in Heaven that he is innocent — nay 
I feel assured of it,” exclaimed Sir Lionel, eagerly ; “and 
yet,” lie added, with a sob, “ such black treachery — oh, 
Dick, Dick ! how must the fiend of covetous greed have 
whispered in your ear before you sold me into captivity 
such as that ! ” 

He turned his face away, and kept silence for awhile. 

Presently Sir Lionel turned towards them again. His 
noble face looked very handsome and sad as he held out 
his thin white hand, and said, “ Norham, forgive me if I 
said anything petulant or ungrateful. It has all come upon 
me so suddenly — this cruel truth — that I could almost 
wish that I had fallen outright in that affray, though then 
my brother — oh, Richard ! — would have had yet heavier 
guilt upon his soul. I suppose it was a terrible temptation, 
those lands and rents that go along with the old Abbey, 
and the empty honors of the baronetcy, and which my 
father’s death brought so close within reach. And yet, 
had he but asked it, I would have shared with him as 
freely as — but he chose his course, poor fellow, and has 
cause to rue it now, though not through any resentment 
of mine.” 

“You mean ” asked Lord Norham, with a look of 

inquiry. 

“ I -mean that I will forgive — nay, that I have forgiven 
him already,” replied Sir Lionel, scarcely aware how much 
the noble simplicity of the speech touched and surprised his 
hearers. “ He shall not suffer, if I can prevent it, either 

from poverty or the withdrawal of a brother’s love ; but 

but ! ” 

His voice died away here, and he seemed to be fainting, 
so that cordials had to be administered, though very cam 
tiously, and all further conversation prohibited. 

On the next day began the breaking up of the camp and 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


253 


the slow homeward march of the force that had been told 
off for the expedition. A small guard of Native Infantry 
remained stationed on the Vulture’s Rock, the late defen- 
ders of which were to be sent under escort to Futteh- 
pore. 

Already Amarat Rao was on his way to the fortress 
where, as a state prisoner, it was probable that he would 
linger out his life. He maintained to the last the same 
demeanor, deep dejection alternating with fits of blind fury, 
and absolutely refusing to answer any questions, even 
concerning the European prisoner whom he had brought 
with him from his palace, or his own complicity with 
Richard Harrington. 

What he would not acknowledge, however, there were 
others who were eager to earn favor, and a little money, 
by disclosing. Not only was the ex-Thag, Motee, willing 
to tell all he knew, but the Rajah’s Parsee secretary, who 
had been taken perforce into his employer’s confidence, 
placed his testimony at Lord Norham’s disposal. The 
former, also, volunteered on returning to Futtehpore to 
put into Lord Norham’s hands some papers that had 
belonged to the lost Walter Travis, and which Motee had 
stowed away in some secure hiding place before sharing 
his master’s flight. And these, it was thought, would go 
far towards elucidating the truth with respect to the heavy 
accusation that hung over Sir Richard’s head. No one 
was so desirous to exonerate him, if possible, from the 
weighty charge for which he was to be tried than was the 
brother he had betrayed, and who declared his intention, 
well or ill, of setting forth at once for England. 

The return to Futtehpore, thanks to the care that in his 
weak state was lavished on Sir Lionel by the kind friends 
in whose keeping he now was, was effected with not much 
fatigue, and then preparations were promptly made for the 
journey to Bombay, and thence to Europe. The rescued 
captive gained strength every day, and was feverishly im- 
patient to set off. 

“ We shall arrive, I hope, in time to save Richard ! ” 
was a frequent utterance of Sir Lionel's. For it was not 
forgotten in India that he who was still called the baronet 
was soon to stand before a jury, charged with the murder 
of Walter Travis ; and the papers which Motee, in com- 
pliance with his promise, had lodged in the hands of Lord 


^54 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Norham, had turned out of unexpected value in throwing 
light upon the pseudo duel that had been fought in the 
jungle. At last the preparations were complete, and Lord 
Norham and Sir Lionel Harrington started for England. 


CHAPTER XLVII. 

THE LAST VISIT IN PRISON. 

The day on which Sir Richard Harrington’s trial — long 
deferred — was to take place had at last been fixed. It was 
deemed all but certain, in spite of the forensic talent en- 
listed on the prisoner’s behalf, that the verdict of the 
jury would be against him. On the eve of the day for 
which the trial was appointed, the young master of Grey- 
stone sat alone, as usual, in that upper chamber of the 
governor’s house, which was his temporary prison. Writ- 
ing materials were on the table, which was also strewn with 
letters ; but these were neglected by the lonely occupant 
of the dreary room, who sat motionless, leaning his head 
upon his hand, and too busy with his own thoughts to be 
aware of the fact that the door had been unlocked and 
opened, and that the warder whose duty it was to attend 
on him had entered, and had twice addressed him. 

At last the rustling of feminine attire, and a touch of a 
soft hand on his wrist, made Sir Richard start and look up. 
He then perceived that the warder had ushered a visitor — 
a lady — into the room, and was retiring. 

“ Zenobia — Mrs. Stone ! ” exclaimed the baronet, as he 
was still believed to be, rising to his feet, as his eyes met 
hers. 

The key turned gratingly in the rusty lock, and the two 
were left for awhile alone. 

“Yes, I am here,” answered the lady of Saxham Towers, 
in a tone that was half reproachful, half compassionate. 
“ Did you not expect me, Richard ? As it is I have de- 
ferred my visit until it is very late — until the last day.” 

“The last day, you mean,” replied Sir Richard, bitterly, 
as with grave courtesy he placed a chair for his fair visitor, 
“ on which I shall possess even the modicum of freedom I 
enjoy — the last on which I shall be held innocent in the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


255 


eyes of the law ! Yes, Zenobia, you are right. To-mor- 
row I shall be condemned. My counsel will do their best, 
for their own reputation rather than for my sake, in the 
losing battle ; but for all that the jury will find me guilty. 
And even if, through some sentimental scruple, my sen- 
tence should be commuted for one of life-long imprisonment, 
there would in that be only a mockery of mercy. Great 
heavens ! how galling to one like me — a Harrington — 
would be the grinding discipline, the garb of shame, the 
enforced association with the vilest felons, the enforced 
submission to harsh warders, and this to drag on until 
death comes tardily to end it. Yes, I am brought very 
low, now.” 

“ Is it because of that,” responded the visitor, in so low 
a tone as to be almost inaudible, “ that I am here to-day ? 
I have come, Richard, in this your hour of extremest need, 
to give you the means of escape.” 

He stared at her with wonder in his dull, haggard eyes, 
and then shook his head, and turned away with a peevish 
exclamation. Of what was the woman talking ? What 
could she mean ? Escape ! She knew, he thought, very 
little of the world, out of India, and perhaps she was about 
to suggest some expedient, possible there, but in England 
hopeless ; of bribery, to purchase the connivance of a 
gaoler, or, it might be, of a silken ladder and false keys to 
effect an exit from that guarded place. Such a scheme 
would be worse than futile, and therefore he had turned 
from the speaker with impatience. But presently Zenobia 
spoke again, and there was something in her voice that 
impressed him in spite of himself, and made him look at 
her more attentively than before. 

“ Listen, Richard ! ” 

The Begum, as was her wont, was richly dressed ; nay, 
on this occasion the splendor of her apparel was unusual, 
even for her ; and the costly jewels that in defiance of 
custom and taste she chose to wear, flashed brilliantly by 
contrast with the bare walls and mean furniture of that 
dismal room. She was pale, beautiful as ever, but with a 
sternness, due to a set purpose, in her expression that 
modified the character of her beauty. It was Cleopatra 
still, but Cleopatra at the last, after Actium had been lost, 
after the battle and the flight, and when the Roman galleys 
were already in the waters of the Nile, and only one refuge 
remained for Antony and the hunted Queen. 


256 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


“ Listen, Richard ! ” she said, for the second time, as 
she bent towards him, lowering her voice, as if in fear of 
being overheard, almost to a whisper ; “ what you have 
just said has been in my mind, sleeping and waking, for 
weeks past, and I can see, dear, but one way. Yes, you 
will be condemned. They all say so. There are some — 
several — who think your life will, for sundry reasons, be 
spared by what they call the clemency of the authorities ; 
but yet there will be the shame, the suffering, the long list 
of indignities, the hopeless, cruel bondage, worse, because 
more degrading, than that of slavery itself. And it is to 
save you — you whom I have loved so dearly — from all this 
that I am here to-day. I have come, Richard, to offer you 
the means not of gaining your liberty ; that I cannot ; but 
at least of baffling your enemies, and of eluding disgrace 
by a quick and easy death.” 

He looked at her. Her dark eyes met his. Evidently 
she was awaiting his reply. 

“ Poison ? ” he whispered hoarsely. 

Zenobia inclined her head in token of assent. 

“ Sure, prompt, and painless in its effects,” she answered 
in the same cautious manner as before. “ We, in India, 
as you know, have potions at our command that your 
pharmacopoeia does not name, even for the purpose of 
providing an antidote. I have with me here what will 
enable you to defy the worst that your persecutors have in 
store for you. When the game is played and lost, as it is 
with you and me, Richard, the best that can be done is to 
leave the scene gracefully.” 

“ I could not do it,” he said, shuddering, and then red- 
dened as he saw Zenobia’s eyes harden scornfully. 

“ Do not mistake me ! ” he said, earnestly ; “ I have not 
flinched many a day when face to face with danger. If it 
were a pistol barrel, now — but the thought of poison is 
repugnant to me, even as the touch of a snake.” 

“ Men have teased a half-tamed cobra into using its 
fangs, before now, when a dishonorable ending lay before 
them,” coldly replied the Begum. “ Do you believe, 
Richard, that I — I, Zenobia Stone — would recommend to 
another what I dared not choose for myself? No, I, too, 
am heart-sick and weary of the sunlight, and would be at 
rest. Ask me no questions. Time is short, and the dura- 
tion of this last sad visit that I pay you is limited, so that 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT \ 


257 


I have not time to dwell on my own prospects — blank and 
dark as they are. Yes, Richard Harrington, you are the 
only man I ever really loved — the only one — and it is for 
that reason that I could not bear to see you doomed to 
disgrace, whether by the hangman’s hands or in that death- 
in-life which penal servitude implies to a man of lineage 
and education such as yours. 

“ Perhaps you are right,” muttered the baronet, irreso- 
lutely ; “ and yet I shrink from what you offer me, Zenobia, 
as though I were the veriest coward — perhaps it is my 
conscience that unmans me — and yet I am no murderer, 
well as I deserve the ill that has befallen me.” 

•A sad smile flitted across those firm, red lips of Zenobia’s. 
She did not believe in her former lover’s protestations of 
innocence as to the death of Walter Travis, but, guilty or 
innocent, she was certain that there was only one means 
of escape from shameful punishment. 

“ Take a woman’s advice — obey a woman’s warning ! ” 
she said, with the impressive accents that would have be- 
come some heathen prophetess of the long past, “ and 
profit by the brief space of comparative liberty to avoid 
the ignominy that awaits you. I shall not be long before — 
but no matter ! Ah, Richard, my lover of other days, why 
did you not make a friend of me from the first? Why 
leave India? Why desert Zenobia? Why come to this 
cold, hard country, full of prying eyes and censorious 
tongues, to be dogged to death by such as those who have 
massed proofs together for your undoing; had you but 
stayed at Futtehpore, had you but told all to me — your 
truest friend — we might have been happy together and had 
bright years in store for us ; whereas now,” she said, with 
a softened voice and somewhat of a sob — “ but I hear the 
warder’s heavy tread in the passage without, and I can stay 
no longer, but must say farewell ! ” 

She rose, not hastily, but with the stately grace of her 
habitual movements, and flung her arms around Sir Rich- 
ard’s neck, and kissed him twice on his pale forehead and 
once on his cheek. Then she released him from her em- 
brace just as again the stiff key turned gratingly in the 
rusty lock. 

“ Here — hide it — keep it from all eyes,” she whispered, 
as she drew from beneath the lace handkerchief that she 
carried a tiny bottle or phial of a purple color, and thrust 

17 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


258 

it into his half-willing hand. Then she resumed her seat 
just as the door opened, and the warder’s bullet head and 
broad figure became visible. 

“ I am ready ! ” said the Begum, as she rose, and slipped 
a sovereign into the man’s ready palm. “ My carriage 
waits? Yes, that is well. Good-bye, then, Sir Richard, 
and remember that I, and all your friends, will be anxious 
on your account to-morrow. And remember my last 
words.” 

She gave him her hand, and he pressed it, and she gave 
him one long, speaking look, one wan smile, and was 
gone. 

Left alone, Sir Richard’s first care was to conceal among 
his books and papers the purple phial that had been 
Zenobia’s last gift, and then flung himself back into his 
chair, and again pillowed his head upon his hands in the 
same attitude of hopeless despondency as before. 


CHAPTER XLVIII. 

THE DAY OF THE TRIAL. 

Wortham was crowded by those whom curiosity had 
attracted towards its old Court House, for now the day of 
Sir Richard Harrington’s trial had arrived, and the popular 
excitement was at its height. Special correspondents of 
all possible newspapers were disputing quarters with one 
another, and sightseers pure and simple poured into the 
place by every train. Judges, jury, and sheriff were ready, 
of course, to discharge their official duties, and some grand 
speeches were expected, chiefly from the eminent counsel 
engaged for the defense. And yet no one anticipated an 
acquittal. The forensic fireworks, all foresaw, would be 
thrown away in the attempt to bolster up a hopeless cause 
and save an unworthy client. Many of the visitors went 
to stare at the uncompromising edifice of grimy brick, with 
its grim outer wall and barred windows, that bore the name 
of Wortham Gaol, and within which, as all knew, was shut 
up the prisoner whose trial was the occasion of their holiday 
trip. 

At ten o’clock the trial was to commence in the ancient 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


259 


Court House, at the bar of which, in older days, many a 
moss-trooper of Border fame, and many a sheepstealer or 
other marauder of a more prosaic sort, had stood to hear 
his doom of death upon the gallows. 

At half-past eight, according to custom, the prisoner’s 
breakfast had been taken into his room by the attendant 
who waited on him. 

An hour later, the tramp of heavy feet was heard as- 
cending the stairs and traversing the passage, for now the 
time had come for Sir Richard, in custody, to be removed 
to the Court House and placed in the dock. A sergeant 
and two constables of the police, as well as the super- 
intendent, had arrived to act as escort, while the governor 
of the prison, with two warders, also proposed to accom- 
pany the important ward for whose safe-keeping they were 
responsible to the law. 

Tramp ! tramp ! the sounds drew nearer, and presently 
— for the baronet was still, in his unconvicted state, treated 
with regard to his social station — there was a knocking at 
his door. 

No answer ! The knocks were repeated, but still there 
was no reply ! 

Colonel Wood, the governor, looked uncomfortable, and 
glanced towards the superintendent of police, who stole a 
sidelong look at him and coughed awkwardly behind his 
white-gloved hand. Then the senior warder unlocked the 
door and opened it. There, on the table, stood Sir Rich- 
ard’s untasted breakfast, while on the bed, which was at 
the opposite side of the chamber, lay a prostrate form, 
with averted face, seemingly asleep. 

Again the governor and the superintendent exchanged 
glances. 

“ Don’t like the look of things, colonel,” said the latter, 
in a whisper. 

“ Nor I. He never, to my recollection, persisted in 
such silence as this,” returned the governor, nervously. 

The chief warder went forward. 

“ Sir Richard,” he said, loudly, and, no reply being 
made, laid his hands upon the recumbent figure and turned 
it partially round, so that the face could be seen. 

Horror ! It was a dead man’s face that met their view — 
the eyes half closed, the features set and motionless, a grey 
pallor spread over the lineaments, such as is Death’s own 
seal, set upon those whom he garners in. 


26 o 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


There was a hush, and then an outcry of voices. 

u I thought as much, sir ! ” said the chief of the police 
shaking his head. 

“I feared so, too; and yet how could it be helped? 
After all our precautions, how could it have happened? ” 
exclaimed the governor, looking miserable, for he knew 
that blame would somehow fall on him. 

Then the prison doctor was sent for in hot haste, and 
he came promptly. But, on examination of the body, he 
pronounced Sir Richard Harrington to be beyond the 
reach of earthly aid, as of earthly punishment. Life was 
quite extinct. There was no pulse, no throb of the heart, 
only a little faint warmth lingering, which showed that 
death had been recent. 

“ Only a few minutes, I should say — probably he hesitated 
until the time drew near ! ” pronounced the doctor. 

Even before the arrival of the medical man the means 
of the suicide had been discovered. Among the pillows, 
close to the dead man’s passive hand, lay a small purple 
phial, uncorked and empty. The doctor examined it as 
well as at the moment was practicable. It contained 
but a drop or two of some dark-colored liquid that had a 
sickly smell, as of fruit or flowers of some strange sort. 

“ An Indian drug, I dare say. Something he brought 
from the East with him and contrived to conceal,” said the 
doctor. “ It has done its work quickly and smoothly too, 
for there is no trace of pain upon the face, as you see.” 

And so it was. Sir Richard Harrington, with all his sins 
upon his head, had gone out of the world to front the 
Judgment Seat. 

On the table, beside the untouched breakfast, lay a 
couple of sheets of paper covered with writing that was 
evidently fresh, for the pen lay beside the paper. 

There was also, carefully closed, and directed to 

“ Sir Lionel Harrington, Bart.” 

“ Not to be ope?icd by a?iy hands but those of 
my b rot her, on his return ,” 

a sealed packet, the red wax bearing the usual impress 
of Sir Richard’s signet, with the Harrington arms. 

The other document, left purposely open, as if to court 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


261 


inspection, was not addressed to any person. It was 
signed, however, in a bold hand, 

‘ 4 Richard Harrington, 

Late of Greystone Abbey.” 

“ The poor, misguided man,” groaned the governor, 
“ has apparently chosen to leave behind him some written 
statement — perhaps a confession — which I suppose the 
judges ought to have placed before them when their lord- 
ships come into court.” 

“ Quite true ! ” answered the doctor, who was the coolest 
of the party, glancing at his watch ; 44 but we, who have 
found the body, may as well, colonel, make ourselves 
acquainted with its contents before we go further.” 

The governor took up the paper, and in an unsteady 
voice read aloud, as follows : — 

44 When these pages are read, I shall be beyond the reach 
of the disgrace and ignominy of a public trial for a crime 
which I did not commit, and of which I am absolutely 
innocent ; and of what affects me far more and more bit- 
terly, the remorseful remembrance of a sin which I did 
commit, but which, so far as I know, is, up to the present 
moment, wholly unknown to any one in England save 
myself. 

4 ‘ The sudden intelligence of the death of my father, Sir 
George, which Lionel and I received while serving with 
our Lancer regiment in India, caused me — Richard Har- 
rington — to conceive a plan so wicked and so subtle, that I 
have often since marveled as to whether the idea was 
not due to the promptings of the arch-fiend himself. The 
scheme was nothing less than to get my elder brother, now 
Sir Lionel, out of the way, so that I and no other might 
secure the immediate enjoyment of the title and estates. 

44 I do not, bad as I am, desire to be misconstrued ; nor 
would I paint myself in blacker colors than truth requires. 
I never for a moment contemplated fratricide. My bro- 
ther’s death formed no part of my project. But what I 
devised for him was the fate to which Joseph was con- 
demned by the envy of his brethren. Ruthlessly, treach- 
erously, I sold him into bondage. My accomplice in this 
villainous scheme was the reigning Rajah of Futtehpore, 
Amarat Rao. This prince, who had taken a fancy to 


262 


THE LADY EGERTA ; 


myself, and with whom I was on good terms, I knew to be 
unscrupulous, daring, and wishful for money, since his 
revenues were all too small to keep pace with his lavish 
expenditure. I readily persuaded him that, could we but 
get Lionel supposed to be dead, and myself the heir to Grey- 
stone, there would be wealth for him as well as for me, since 
a few thousands a year, which I could easily spare, would 
be a welcome addition to the Rajah’s income. Amarat 
Rao came at once into the plan, and volunteered his own 
palace as the place in which my brother should be kept 
secluded from the world, confident as he was of the dis- 
cretion of his large household of guards and servants. 

“ The idea of an attack by banditti on the convoy of 
treasure that was to be sent across the forest, under a slight 
escort, was due to Amarat Rao’s wily brain. Some of his 
own soldiers, picked men who could be trusted, disguised 
themselves for this purpose as common robbers or dacoits, 
and the ambuscade was formed, and the onslaught made, 
without raising a suspicion that the aggressors had any 
motive but plunder. I acted, on this occasion, the part of 
a decoy duck, since it was at my instigation that Lionel 
offered to accompany the convoy, taking the place of 
another officer who was suffering from some trifling indis- 
position, while I went with him as a volunteer. Strict 
orders had been given to the supposed bandits not to slay 
a Feringhee, but in the heat of the scuffle such instructions 
were readily forgotten, and both my brother and myself, 
as well as the mounted British orderlies and the paymaster 
who went with 11s, had some narrow escapes. As for the 
native attendants, they were butchered like sheep, without 
mercy or scruple. This slaughter, and the looting of 
Government treasure, were thought necessary to give color 
to the report, believed by all, that the affray had been with 
some gang of commonplace marauders. Lionel was sur- 
rounded, unhorsed, and stunned, and borne away, blind- 
folded, by a circuitous route, to the palace that was to be 
his prison. 

“ My own part I acted well. When I came galloping 
into camp breathless and bareheaded, to summon my own 
regiment to my brother’s aid, all put faith, as well they 
might — Heaven pardon me — in the sincerity of my grief 
and anxiety. I kept the search for my brother on foot till 
all were weary, and feigned the distress which all who 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


263 


knew us believed to be real. Then came the next act in 
the drama. It had been arranged that some positive 
proof of Lionel’s death should be forthcoming. Had he 
continued to be merely missing, conjectures would have 
been rife as to what could have become of him, and some 
one might even have guessed the truth. But if a corpse, 
supposed to be his, could but be found, identified, and 
removed to England for ceremonious burial the way to 
the succession, both to title and estates, would lie smooth 
before me, and I should become at once the acknowledged 
baronet. I it was who contrived this, the central feature of 
the plot. The Rajah had informed me, half carelessly, of 
the illness of a European dependent of his, who had sickened 
of cholera — then raging — and whom the native Hakim 
who attended him had given up for lost. My suggestion 
that, when this man died, his body should be attired in the 
uniform my brother had worn, and be discovered, as if 
accidentally, in the forest, was eagerly acceded to by the 
prince, Amarat Rao, and was acted upon. 

“ Here, again, the comedy was well kept up. Motee, 
the prince’s confidential servant, came to my quarters with 
a plausible account of how my brother had been found in 
the jungle, speechless and dying, by Pariah charcoal burn- 
ers, who had removed him to their own wretched hovel, 
and the young officers and the doctor who accompanied 
me when I hastened to the lonely hut were readily induced 
to believe that the body found in that miserable abode, 
and clad in the uniform of our regiment, was that of my 
brother, Sir Lionel. No difficulty presented itself, thus, in 
substituting the corpse of a stranger for that of Captain 
Harrington, and I was able to complete the imposture by 
causing the body to be carried to England, and publicly 
committed to the family vault at Greys tone. I was then 
quite unaware of the name of the English hanger-on of 
Amarat Rao, and little dreamed that I should live to be 
hunted to death as his murderer. I declare now, on the 
very eve of death, that never once in his lifetime did I set 
my eyes on Walter Travis, and that his very personality 
was to me unknown. 

“ I became lord of Greystone Abbey and its broad lands 
and rich mines without let or hindrance. On the contrary, 
I found myself the object of universal sympathy and good- 
will. My Indian accomDlice, as might have been expected, 


264 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


abused his position by extortionate demands to which I had 
no choice but to submit, but even that would not much 
have troubled me had but my mind been at ease. As it 
was, I never knew a happy hour. The sting of remorse, 
feverish unrest, the turning to gall and bitterness of all the 
pleasures that the world most values, such were the wages 
of my crime ; such the reward I reaped for the betrayal 
of a loving, trusting brother. And yet — though few will 
believe me — even when I concocted, in concert with the 
Rajah, the infamous plot against Lionel’s liberty, I loved 
him still as I had done since our boyhood, and as I do 
now, now, when as I write there stands within reach of my 
hand the deadly draught that is to hurry me out of the 
world. Yes, I had still the old affection for him whom I 
left in the vile hands of an Eastern tyrant, but whom I had 
deliberately sacrificed to ambition and greed. I suppose 
I am a moral monster. I seem to shudder when I try to 
fathom the depths of my own guilty heart, and strive to 
pray for pardon. I, as I look back to my brief period of 
prosperity and ill-got wealth, declare that I would sooner 
have spent the time as the servant of the dear brother I 
have wronged, and who I trust will one day learn to forgive 
me for my great sin against him. 

“ I adjure those who read these my last words to lose no 
time in taking steps to liberate Sir Lionel, my brother, now 
immured in the Palace of the Rajah of Futtehpore, and 
whom the last letter I received from the prince declared to 
be in good health, though dejected and unhappy. Amarat 
Rao cannot resist the superior force at the British Resi- 
dent’s command, and the captive’s rescue would be easy 
and prompt. I desire that the sealed packet which I leave, 
addressed to Sir Lionel, should be kept sacred until it is 
placed, intact, in his hands, on his return to take possession 
of his own. And I protest, on the oath of a dying man, 
that I am innocent of the blood of that wretched Walter 
Travis, whom I never saw till he was placed, dead, in the 
coffin that was supposed to be my brother’s, and whose 
name I first heard after my return to England. Now I 
must drink the poison. I do not wish to live. It is better 
so. 

“ (Signed), Richard Harrington.” 


0A\ BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


265 


Scarcely had the governor ceasecf Veading when the 
sounds of bustle and voices arose from below. “ The 
sheriff ! ” whispered the head warder ; and Colonel Wood 
at once turned towards the door, and, with one glance at 
the quiet figure on the bed, sadly and reverently withdrew, 
followed by the rest. 


CHAPTER LIX. 

IN THE COURT HOUSE. 

The Court House, where the trial for murder was to take 
place, was crowded to suffocation, so numerous were the 
spectators. On the magistrates’ bench room had been 
found, as usual, for sundry distinguished lookers-on, over 
and above the justices of the peace, and sundry ladies had 
been accommodated with chairs, close, as Lady Sparkleton 
expressed it, to the stage. 

The Bar mustered strongly, since a wig and gown act on 
these occasions as a pass ticket that the strictest janitor 
cannot gainsay, and there was a great deal of curiosity 
afloat as to how this important case would be concluded. 
The judges, in their scarlet and ermine, the sheriff in his 
court suit, the jury in their box, the Crown counsel, and 
the eminent advocates engaged for the defence, police, 
witnesses, newspaper reporters, all were there, and all 
waited, with exemplary calmness at first, then more impa- 
tiently, for the arrival of the prisoner. 

Would Sir Richard never be brought into court? It was 
very odd. What could occasion a delay so unusual, so dis- 
respectful, even, to British Justice? Watches were con- 
sulted. There was a buzz of conversation and inquiry. 
Heads were turned, as by a common impulse, at any 
sound, however distant. Yes, it was very strange ! 

A quarter of an hour, twenty minutes, and no sign of the 
arrival of the accused. The talking in court grew louder, 
and yet was unreproved by tipstaff or usher. Presently 
the grave judges bent down their wigged heads and ex- 
changed a few words. Then “Mr. Sheriff ” was invoked. 
The sheriff, looking very nervous and fussy, set off at once, 
with two of his javelin men in attendance, for the gaol. 


266 


THE LADY EGER I A ; 


The barristers loolalfl at one another. The spectators felt 
a chill, as of disappointment, creeping over them. Were 
they to be baulked, after all, of the show they had come 
for? 

Then there was a stir and ahum of low, eager voices, as 
in came Colonel Wood, in company with the sheriff, the 
head warder, the prison doctor, and the chief of the police. 
The governor looked pale and agitated. 

“ Very sorry, my lords — bearer of. bad news ! ” — he stam- 
mered out as soon as he had made his way near enough to 
the Bench — “ Sir Richard Harrington, the prisoner, is no 
more.” 

One of the judges was deaf, and the governor’s voice 
was low and broken. 

“ I don’t hear him. What does he mean ? ” demanded 
the judge, peevishly. 

“ He says the prisoner is dead,” explained the other 
wearer of ermine. “Go on, sir; tell us what has hap- 
pened.” 

“ The prisoner has destroyed himself — has taken poison, 
my lord. He was stone dead when we found him,” faltered 
out the governor, and at the news of the tragedy that had 
occurred, there was an end of all semblance of decorous 
order in the court, and an outburst of excited voices arose, 
all seeming to speak, and none to listen. Pity, horror, 
amazement were freely expressed. And, strange to say, 
such is the inconsistency of human nature, many who had 
been sure of the baronet’s guilt began, now, to waver in 
their estimate of the evidence against him, and to entertain 
the uncomfortable idea that an innocent man had, perhaps, 
been hounded out of the world by persistent persecution. 
Then silence was restored, for all were anxious to hear 
more. 

Colonel Wood, the governor, had but little to tell in 
answer to the questions that were put to him. The prisoner, 
who had seemed cast down, but not by any means frantic 
or excited, had been sought, as usual in such cases, in his 
room in the governor’s house, and had been found dead on 
his bed. A bottle, that had contained some unknown 
poison, probably a drug brought by himself from India, 
lay empty beside him. 

Sir Richard had left on the table a written confession or 
statement, just penned and signed by him. He had also 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


267 


left a sealed packet, addressed to a near relative. There 
was the other paper for their lordships to peruse. 

There was tiptoe eagerness of curiosity in court .as the 
judges, not without some visible emotion, one by one, ran 
their eyes over the last lines traced by the hand of him 
who was now beyond earthly vengeance. Then two or 
three of the magistrates and the sheriff were called up to 
look at the document, which they, too, read hastily through, 
and next something was said and settled as to a coroner’s 
inquest to be held on the ensuing day. Then, after the 
senior judge had uttered a few severe remarks as to the 
negligence or undue indulgence which had led to the fiasco 
of the day, the court broke up. There could be no trial. 
Nothing remained but to disperse. 

The assemblage broke up, so far as the majority of those 
who composed it were concerned, with much the feelings 
of a Roman crowd trooping out of the amphitheatre without 
their promised treat of beasts and gladiators slain, or of 
Christians thrown to the lions. 

The craving for excitement is in some natures so strong 
and so unthinking that it is not necessarily cruel, even 
when the food it feeds upon is the suffering of another. 

Probably, except Mavina Malstock, not a single enemy 
of the prisoner could be counted among the throng, but 
there were many who felt it hard to have been cheated of 
a spectacle more thrilling, because real, than anything 
which the stage could exhibit. After all, there had been 
something horrible, something mysterious, too, even if they 
had lost the satisfaction of seeing a man of rank and fortune 
placed in the dock like any common criminal. 

Perhaps those most to be pitied were the purveyors for 
the daily press. They had come down to report the trial 
of exceptional interest, and there was no trial to give occu- 
pation to their practiced pens. To be sure, there was a 
suicide. Crisp little telegrams would convey that news to 
titillate the nerves of readers. The telegrams, too, would 
drop a hint that there was more to tell than leaded capitals 
could supply. 

The confession which the unhappy Sir Richard had left 
behind him would be pabulum for the public curiosity. 
The document itself, after being scanned by the judges, the 
sheriff, and the more active of the magistrates, had been 
handed back, to the governor of the gaol, no doubt to be 
produced at the inquest. 


268 


THE LAD V EGERLA ; 


But the governor could be interviewed. In these days 
the Sphynx, or a Rosicrucian of the Middle Ages, or a 
priest of Isis would have been tormented into revealing all 
that was kept discreetly dark; and special correspondents 
are ingenious in applying the moral thumbscrew that unseals 
reluctant lips. 

The magistrates, too, knew something, and so did the 
sheriff and so did the prison doctor, and each and all of 
these personages had to submit to interrogatories more 
pleasantly put, but not less peremptory, than those of a 
continental commissary of police. 

Nor is it surprising that the telegraph officials of Wor- 
tham had an unusual amount of work to do that, day, and 
that the clicking of the brass instruments was incessant as 
fresh statements were sent hurrying along the electric wire 
to London. 

Meanwhile the permanent dwellers at Wortham had 
matters to occupy their thoughts quite independently of 
the thirst for news on the part of those who catered for 
metropolitan journals. The coroner had been informed 
that his services would be required on the morrow, and the 
good men and true, who were to compose his jury, had 
also to be bespoken for their useful functions. The attend- 
ance of certain medical experts had to be provided for. 
Arrangements, too, had to be made for the present care, 
and ultimate interment, of the body of Sir Richard Har- 
rington. 

The usual professional watchers of the dead were of 
course called in to discharge their melancholy duties, and 
the chief upholsterer of Wortham was busy in preparing a 
coffin, with pall of black velvet, and handles and name-plate 
in simple silver, since the funeral would probably be of a 
quiet and unostentatious sort. 

That there would be a decorous, if quiet, funeral was 
taken for granted. We have made a step or two in civil- 
ization beyond our immediate ancestors, and should be 
shocked at the notion of waging war, as they did, against the 
dead. No cross roads now, no corpse drawn on a hurdle 
to the shameful place of burial, no stake driven through 
the heart, as if the poor maddened suicide had been a 
vampire of Eastern superstition, and might be expected to 
come back again and work evil, if not made safe in this 
barbaric fashion, which was not repugnant to our grand* 
fathers. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


269 


Yes, Richard Harrington, baronet or no baronet, would 
be allowed, no doubt, to rest in peace, when once .the in- 
quest should be over, and the convenient verdict which 
modern sentiment dictates pronounced by those who in 
such cases have to arbitrate. 

Mr, Parker, agent for the Greystone property, was going 
to and fro, and attending to the preparations for the decent 
interment of his late employer, all the time sorely exer- 
cised in his mind as to who was the present owner of the 
Abbey. Could it be possible that the dead Sir Lionel was 
really in the land of the living, soon to come back and take 
possession of his own ? Time would show. 


CHAPTER L. 

TOO LATE ! 

It was the evening of the eventful day which was to have 
witnessed the trial of him who was still called Sir Richard 
Harrington, and the shadows were closing in, and the 
street lamps and the lights in shop windows beginning to 
twinkle. Wortham Gaol had become quiet again, and 
Colonel Wood, the governor, after a hard and worrying 
day, for the special correspondents had been as busy with 
him as terriers around a badger, was sitting down at last 
to his delayed dinner. Then, as he was adjusting his nap- 
kin, a cab came dashing up to the door ; there was a clang 
of the bell, and after a brief parley without, two strange 
gentlemen, travel worn, weary, but too intent upon the 
object of their journey to heed conventional disturbances, 
came hurrying in, with some semblance of apology for the 
intrusion. 

“ I hope I am not too late ! ” exclaimed the first and 
younger of the two, a man of noble presence, whose golden 
hair matched well with his blue eyes and handsome features. 
I am Lionel Harrington, and I have hurried on here, night 
and day, to save my biother the shame and pain of a trial 
for a crime which he is innocent of, as I can now, I am 
glad to say, fully prove. Am I in time ? I hope so, for I 
have not lost a moment since we left India ! ” 

All this was said so eagerly, and with such excitement, 


270 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


that the governor, who had sprung to his feet, could not 
get the opportunity of replying by word or look. 

“ Excuse me,” said the other new comer, a big, bronzed 
man, with a flowing beard, “ my friend’s feelings — allow 
me to introduce him, sir, as Sir Lionel Harrington — my 
own name is Lord Norham — have been more than he could 
restrain, and I am not surprised that you should wonder 
at the suddenness of our entry. We are fresh from India, 
have traveled without delay or rest, and have come direct 
here from the railway station. I hope your rules will not 
refuse us the privilege of an immediate interview with Sir 
Richard — or Mr. Richard Harrington — for whom we bring 
good news.” 

The governor bowed and rubbed his hands, and offered 
chairs to his visitors, but was obviously at his wits’ end 
for something to say. 

“ I should have no objection — ” he stammered out — 
“ indeed, my lord, I feel very deeply for all concerned in 
this unhappy affair — but this has come upon me so sud- 
denly that I hardly know how to act in this strange and 
painful position that is forced upon me.'’ 

“ We have pushed on to our journey’s end,” pursued 
Lord Norham, “hoping to be in time to make representa- 
tions to those in authorit} 7 that would avert the need for a 
trial. I only trust,” he added, marking the governor’s 
agitated demeanor, “ that our hope is not fallacious.” 

Good-natured Colonel Wood had been much shaken by 
the events of the day. He was miserable at this new task 
before him, and yet he saw no way out of it. 

“ The trial would have taken place this very day,” he 
said, nervously, “ had not poor Sir Richard — ” He paused 
here. 

“ My brother is ill, perhaps ? ” asked Sir Lionel, anx- 
iously. 

Lord Norham, who was cooler, saw by the governor’s 
manner that it was worse than that. 

“ I fear you have bad news for us ? ” he said, softly. 

“ I have indeed,” faltered out the kindly governor, “my 
late prisoner is beyond the reach of earthly pain.” 

“ Dead — Richard — to whom I came to bring a message 
of hope and good-will — my brother dead — I cannot believe 
it ! ” burst out Sir Lionel, and then the strong man’s nerves 
gave way, and he sobbed aloud. 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT . 


271 


“ Is it — ,” Lord Norham began, but Colonel Wood took 
on him to answer the unfinished question. 

“ It is, my lord, as you no doubt have guessed,” he said, 
in a low tone, which, nevertheless, reached Sir Lionel’s ear 
as well as that of his companion ; “ the prisoner had, un- 
suspected by us, a phial of poison in his possession, and he 
this morning swallowed the contents just before it came 
our duty to summon him to accompany us to the Court 
House. He was dead when we entered the room — a quick 
and painless death, as all signs showed.” 

It was not immediately that the surviving brother was 
able to moderate the transport of passionate sorrow that 
overpowered him, and to hear with some approach to 
calmness the little which Colonel Wood had to relate. 
The facts were simple. The prisoner — who, by permission 
of the visiting magistrates, had been treated with much 
indulgence — had been for months in a low spirited state, 
but quite quiet and composed. He had received frequent 
visits from his solicitors and other members of the legal 
profession engaged for his defence, and one, the day 
before the trial, from a lady. The lady was one whom Sir 
Richard had known in India — Mrs. Stone, now of Saxham 
Towers. He had seemed to the warder, who was the last 
person who saw him alive, deeply dejected, but not more 
so than had been the case for some weeks. His unex- 
pected self-destruction had taken everyone by surprise ; 
and none more so than his family solicitors, Messrs. Tatham 
& Gudge. The inquest was for the morrow. 

Sir Lionel expressed a wish to be allowed to see his 
brother’s remains, and to this request the governor at once 
acceded. The watchers were called away, and the two 
travelers were inducted into the dreary room where, on 
the bed, lay all that was mortal of the late master of 
Greystone Abbey. Sir Lionel gazed for a minute on the 
pale, still face of the brother whom, in his noble heart, he 
had forgiven, unasked, for so much of wrong and perfidy, 
and then knelt beside the bed, and, throwing his arms 
around the prostrate form, buried his head between them, 
and sobbed aloud in such an agony of distress that the 
governor glanced apprehensively at Lord Norham. 

“ Let him weep,” whispered the latter, softly. “ The 
poor fellow has gone through a cruel time of it in India, 
and is weakened by fasting and fatigue ; but his is a man’s 


272 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


nature, and it was better that he should learn the worst at 
once. He came hastening here on an errand of love and 
mercy, and now, alas, we are too late ! ” 

“ By one short day too late ! ” assented the governor. 
After a time Sir Lionel’s grief abated, and Lord Norham, 
with some difficulty, drew him away. The intention of 
the future marquess had been to proceed to Hurst Royal 
with his rescued friend, but this was now not to be thought 
of, and it was settled that the travelers should spend the 
night at the hotel, to await the inquest, and arrange for 
the removal of Richard Harrington’s body to Greystone 
Abbey. 


CHAPTER LI. 

THE SEALED PACKET. 

The inquest passed over decorously and smoothly enough, 
and with every desire on the part of those concerned in it 
to spare the feelings of the returned Sir Lionel, for whom 
much natural sympathy was expressed. Sir Lionel and Lord 
Norham were both, under the circumstances of the case, 
permitted to tender evidence, the purport of which was to 
clear the memory of the deceased from the stigma that 
had attached to it. 

Motee, the Rajah’s confidential servant, had not only 
divulged all the details of the scheme for substituting the 
corpse of Walter Travis, after his death by cholera, for 
that of Sir Lionel Harrington, but had kept his promise of 
handing over to Lord Norham sundry papers and memo- 
randa in the handwriting of Travis himself, and which had 
been secreted by Motee in the hope of one day finding a 
market for them. 

Walter Travis, in the tolerably connected notes which 
he had roughly jotted down, and which were now produced 
in the coroner’s humble court, never once made mention 
of Richard Harrington. Bu t there were repeated allusions 
to another young officer of the Lancer regiment, a certain 
Sub-Lieutenant Hollis, who had grossly insulted the 
adventurer at a tavern where billiards were played, in 
Futtehpore, and who had given or accepted a challenge to 


OR , BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


273 


fight a duel. It was clear, from a later entry among the 
memoranda, that such a duel in the jungle did take place, 
and that it was not fairly conducted. 

“ Graham, of the Lancers, who stood second to him, 
owned that Hollis, his principal, had behaved as badly as 
could be in firing first. I was hit before I had time to get 
my pistol lifted. And Walsh, who stood by me in the 
affair, used stronger language still.” 

As for the evidence of the native servants who professed 
to have attended their master, Richard Harrington, to the 
edge of the jungle on the morning of the duel, Motee 
easily induced the syce and grass-cutter, who had really 
been in the employment of Mr. Hollis, to confess that they 
had been suborned by Govind, Sir Richard’s discarded 
mussaulchee, to claim the latter as their master. As for 
the rogue Govind himself, who was a known thief and 
perjurer, he had absconded on hearing that Motee, with 
the Kotwall’s assistance, was inquiring into his conduct ; 
and there could be no doubt that he had merely thrust 
himself forward to make profit of Jasper Holt’s eagerness 
to collect proofs against Sir Richard Harrington, and had 
used the more illiterate natives as tools for his purpose. 

In addition to this, and to the deposition of the ex- 
Rajah’s Parsee secretary, well cognizant of the plot for 
passing off one body for another, there was produced in 
court a letter received by the British Resident at Futteh- 
pore two days before Lord Norham and Sir Lionel left 
that place. This was written by a certain Mr. James 
Walsh, manager of an indigo plantation in some out-of-the- 
way district of Lower Bengal, and lately a resident in the 
neighborhood of Futtehpore, where he had been employed 
in some similar capacity. This Englishman wrote to say 
that he had just seen, for the first time, a newspaper report 
of Sir Richard’s impending trial for the murder of Walter 
Travis, and wrote at once to state the truth. The truth, 
according to the straightforward declaration of Mr. Walsh, 
was that he stood second to his acquaintance, Walter 
Travis, in a duel fought in the bush. That the name of 
the latter’s adversary, who had forced the quarrel on him 
with wanton insolence, was Hollis, and not Harrington ; 
that Mr. Hollis fired with unfair promptitude, wounding 
Travis, whose pistol went off as he fell ; and that only the 
entreaties' of Lieutenant Graham induced Walsh himself, 

18 


274 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


who was indignant at what he deemed an attempt at mur- 
der, to consent that the business should be hushed up. 
“ I can keep silence no longer, and will vouch for the truth 
of what I say before any tribunal, and at any personal 
inconvenience,” wrote Mr. Walsh, “ now that an innocent 
man like this Sir Richard, who is a total stranger to me, 
and I believe to Travis also, is accused of what he never 
did.” 

There was a murmur of pity and surprise in court when 
these statements were read out. The facts of Sir Lionel’s 
capture and incarceration were touched upon as lightly as 
possible, and what was dwelt upon was the strange revela- 
tion that threw light on the tissue of circumstantial evi- 
dence on the strength of which Sir Richard had been all 
but condemned. 

“ I think, gentlemen, you will agree with me, that the 
late unfortunate Sir Richard’s absolute innocence of the 
presumed murder of Walter Travis has been fully sub- 
stantiated,” said the coroner, and there was not a dissentient 
voice amongst jury or spectators. Then followed the 
mild verdict : — 

“ Felo de se, while suffering under temporary insanity 
occasioned by mental distress.” 

And then there was nothing left but to authorize the 
removal of the body to Greystone Abbey, there to await 
the funeral. 

The funeral was as quietly and modestly managed as it 
could possibly be, in the melancholy circumstances of the 
case, nor were any invitations issued. Yet, somehow, as a 
mark of respect to the family of Harrington, many persons 
insisted on attending it, and the Most Noble the Marquess 
of Cheviot was among those who went to see the coffin of 
Richard Harrington, followed, as chief mourner, by the 
brother he had wronged, laid to rest in the vault of Grey- 
stone church. 

On returning to his own sad home, Sir Lionel shut him- 
self up in his own room, and there opened the sealed packet 
directed to himself, and which the governor of the prison 
had duly made over to its proper recipient. 

It was not without deep emotion that the present lord 
of the old Abbey perused what had been written on the 
very eve of the desperate act which had finished his 
brother’s most unhappy career. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


275 


The sealed packet, when opened, proved to enclose a 
second and smaller enclosure, also sealed, and addressed 
to Lady Egeria Fitzurse. What was meant for Sir Lionel’s 
perusal consisted merely of these words : — 

tl My dear, dear brother, for dear you are still to me as you have been, 
ever and always, I ask you to believe that during the whole of these 
miseiable months there has not been one day on which the memory of 
our old affection did not haunt me. I never ceased to feel remorse for 
the evil I had done to you. 

“I do not, Lionel, venture to crave your pardon. I do not deserve 
it. I try by my death to expiate my crime, and I only ask of you, dear 
brother, to think sometimes kindly of me. I have always done so of 
you, but then, to be sure, I am guilty, and you innocent. Farewell ! 

“ Richard Harrington. 5 ’ 

This letter, which Sir Lionel read and re-read, was 
blistered by the tears that fell on it. As for that addressed 
to Lady Egeria, the baronet put it aside. 

“ I will deliver this myself,” he said. “ And to-morrow 
I trust I shall feel equal to crossing the threshold of Hurst 
Royal. Poor fellow! his last words shall not be neglected.” 


CHAPTER LII. 
zenobia’s last farewell. 

“ Indeed, indeed you must believe me, Captain Redmayne. 
You should not persist in this, nor press any longer for an 
answer different from that which I have been compelled to 
give. It can but cause pain to your own heart — pain to 
us both, but to you the most.” 

Thus spoke Zenobia Stone, in her luxurious drawing- 
room at the Towers, surrounded by all that money could 
buy, and by nothing else worth the having. 

For the second time had Harry Redmayne stormed her 
door, in defiance of the strictest orders given to her trem- 
bling Oriental servants, and fairly forced his way into her 
presence. He looked very wan, ill and wild-eyed, this 
handsome guardsman, who had found his life so joyous 
until the tyrant Love laid hold of him and warped his very 
nature, He had come again to offer marriage to the 


276 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Begum of Saxham Towers, well knowing what the accept 
tance of such an offer entailed upon him. He should be 
estranged frem his family. Well, let the estrangement 
come, since his own people at Old Court were so preju- 
diced against her he loved. His native country would not 
countenance his bride, his old friends would shake their 
heads over his infatuation, he might even have to leave 
the Guards, so compromising was the alliance he contem- 
plated, but he was ready to give up all if Zenobia would 
but, by his side, face the world. 

But the Begum, though she pitied him, was quite stead- 
fast in her refusal. 

“ Harry,” she said, presently, in reply to another pas- 
sionate appeal from the rejected suitor, “ the time will 
come when you will thank me for what you now call 
cruelty. And, were I to let myself be softened into a 
foolish consent, full well do I know that the time would 
come when you would curse me for having listened to you. 
You beg me, dear, to let me blight your life. You would 
take me to your bosom, with my dowry of the world’s 
frowns and ill word. Believe me, you would repent of it 
ere very long, for I should soon be old, and you would 
find yourself the disappointed husband of a woman for 
whom you would have ceased to car c. You had better 
leave me and think of me, now and then, as a friend whose 
firmness saved you from shipwreck irreparable.” 

“You wrong yourself and you wrong me,” was Harry’s 
indignant answer. “ What matter, Zenobia, the cold 
counsels of worldly prudence in such a case as ours ? I 
love you ! I love you so much that I would not have you 
other than what you are, a noble, beautiful woman, unfairly 
dealt with by uncharitable tongues and spiteful gossips. 
Come with me, and let us set our home where you will, far 
from these unprovoked enemies of yours, and be true to 
one another for weal or woe. Two hearts like ours are 
not to be kept apart at Mrs. Grundy’s dictation, surely. 
It should be enough for us, Zenobia, that we love.” 

He tried to take her hand as he uttered these desperate 
words, but she withdrew it, and her great, dark eyes met 
his with a strange expression in them that was almost 
menacing. 

“ You had better go — leave me, and forget me ! ” she 
said, in her rich, low tones. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


277 


He shook his head. “Never!” he answered; “my 
love, my worship of you, give me the right to be heard.” 

“ Better accept my reply as final, and let us be friends,” 
she said, in guarded accents ; “ I am sorry for you, but it 
cannot be as you wish.” 

Harry Redmayne told her that he valued nothing on 
earth as he valued her, and that his devotion deserved 
kinder treatment at her hands. He was the truest of 
lovers. He would be the tenderest of husbands. He 
knew, he said, that in her heart she cared for him, and she 
ought not, out of wounded pride or silly scruples, to say 
him nay. 

“ For you love me, Zenobia ? ” 

“ You zvill wring the truth from me, then,” said Zenobia, 
with a sigh, but with that expression of menace yet in her 
lustrous eyes ; “ be warned, and go ! ” 

It was not in Harry’s nature to yield on such a point. 
He tried again to take her hand. This time she did not 
withdraw it; and it lay in his, passive and marble cold. 

“Captain Redmayne,” she said, in her old, imperious 
manner, “ I have tried to spare you, but you will not be 
spared ; learn then the truth. I do not love you. Flat- 
tered I have been, and touched by your addresses, and I 
have liked you well, but that was all. If ever I cared 
for any man on earth it was Richard Harrington. Him, 
with all his sins upon his head, I did love ; nay, I love 
his memory to the last.” 

Harry started as if a serpent had bitten him with its 
venomed fangs. In all his misgivings, in all his trouble, 
he had borne about with him, as a talisman, the conviction 
that he was beloved by Zenobia, though self-will or caution 
made her reject his suit. Now, every word of her last 
speech had come home to his heart as a stab. His brain 
reeled, and he gasped for breath. 

“ You only say this to try me ! ” he said, hoarsely. 

The Begum’s answer was firmly spoken : “ I said the 

truth ! ” 

The guardsman groaned aloud, and hid his face between 
his hands ; then, silently, he turned towards the door. 

“ Stay, let us part as friends. You will know soon why 
I wish it,” exclaimed Zenobia, laving her hand lightly on 
his arm. 

He made one or two efforts to speak, but no sound . 


278 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


passed his lips. Then, mechanically, he took the hand 
she offered him. 

“ Good-bye ! ” he said, in a slow, broken voice ; and 
then, almost as a blind man would have done, groped his 
way out of the room. 

Zenobia smiled strangely as she moved a pace or two 
so as to be able to touch the handle of the bell, and thus 
apprise the servants of her visitor’s exit. 

She went to a window, full of hothouse flowers on a 
gilded stand, which commanded a view of the park, 
and watched Harry Redmayne as, with slow step and 
downcast air, he walked away down the leafy avenue until 
his form was lost to sight. Then, with the same strange 
smile upon her face, she went back to her sofa, and 
lounged once more among the silken cushions, thinking 
deeply. 

There was a table within her reach strewn with costly 
toys, Eastern and European. She took from it a little dag- 
ger, with a ruby-eyed serpent, in yellow gold, twisted around 
its jeweled handle, and drew the blue, keen blade of the 
tiny weapon from its rich sheath. It was the dagger she 
had brought with her from India, and of which she had 
once made mention to Sir Richard on the occasion of their 
first meeting on English ground, a poniard by which the 
slightest wound would prove fatal. She took it up now, 
and examined the thin, sharp point and edge scrutinizingly, 
and then — surely that was a small stream of blood, that 
crimson thread trickling from her rounded white wrist, 
just above the gemmed bracelet ! She made no effort to 
stanch the blood, nor did she call for assistance, but lay 
back among her soft silken cushions, and presently seemed 
to sleep, though so lightly that her very breathing was 
imperceptible. 

The Indian servant who, hours afterwards, came gliding 
into the room, found his mistress reclining among the 
silken cushions, her eyes open and fixed, her pale lips 
slightly parted, so that the pearly teeth within were faintly 
visible, and her attitude that of one who sleeps. But the 
dried blood that clung to her wrist, the dagger clasped by 
her stiffening fingers, the tell-tale spot of crimson on the 
white velvet of the costly carpet, told the truth to the quick- 
eyed Hindoo all too surely. This was no sleep, but the 
dread slumber that shall know no waking in this world. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


279 


Soon the news spread through the household, through 
the hamlet near, and reached Wortham, whither a mounted 
messenger rode at full speed to summon medical aid. But 
Dr. Malstock, when he came, found he could do nothing. 
All the Faculty, in such a case, would have been as helpless 
to minister assistance, as were the weeping native ayahs 
and bearers who surrounded their dead mistress, or the 
English domestics whispering to one another in the back- 
ground. That the poisoned dagger had been fraught with 
some subtle venom Dr. Malstock at once conjectured. The 
wound itself was the veriest scratch, such as might well be 
the result of accident. And to accident or rashness it 
seemed most charitable to attribute the untoward event. 

Poor Zenobia ! From the first she had been more sinned 
against than sinning : rather the scapegoat for others than 
one who deserved social outlawry, to a woman the direst 
of dooms. Some of 11s are so heavily handicapped in the 
race of life as to seem destined to misfortune, and the 
Begum, with all her gold and all her beauty, was of this 
luckless company. She had had little teaching, and of 
true maternal care had known nothing, so that her very 
charms, her very wealth, had been to her rather as curses 
than as blessings, from the first. 

There was peace, now, it may be hoped, for that wild and 
wayward heart, not ungenerous, not unfeeling, not sordid, 
but so utterly undisciplined as to be a lure to destruction 
rather than a beacon on the path to what was right. She 
was dead, very, very soon after him she had loved, and on 
whom she had bestowed the fatal gift that prevented his 
presence in the Court House at Wortham on the very day 
of his injured brother’s return. 


CHAPTER LIIE 

LADY EGERIA OWNS SHE LOVES HIM. 

In the same stately drawing-room at Hurst Royal, with its 
outlook over park and lakelet and the wild blue hills be- 
yond, into which, near the commencement of this story, 
Sir Richard had been ushered on the occasion of his first 
visit, was the beautiful daughter of the ancient house of 


28 o 


THE LADY EGERIA ; 


Fitzurse. Not alone, however. The real baronet, the real 
master of Greystone, was with her. Sir Lionel had, in 
pursuance of the intention he had expressed, called at 
Hurst Royal on the day after his brother’s funeral, and 
had found Lady Egeria at home and by herself. 

The marquess was absent; indeed, he was among his 
colliers of Silverseam, now converts to loyalty, and who 
were perhaps in higher favor with the old nobleman than 
if there had been no interlude of anarchy and estrange- 
ment. And Lord Norham was at Old Court, where Harry 
Redmayne was truly reported to be in a desperate and 
miserable frame of mind, since the sudden and suspicious 
death of the woman who by crossing his path had wrecked 
his life. 

Sir Lionel had placed in Lady Egeria’s hands the tiny 
packet, sealed with red wax, and directed to herself, which 
his brother had committed to his care. She had opened 
it with trembling fingers, and with a sort of awe, such as 
we feel when in the presence of the newly dead. The 
writing swam before her eyes as she tried to read, for tears 
would rise in them. She made an effort and went on with 
the perusal. 

“ I love you very dearly, and none the less,” such were 
the simple words penned, almost at the last, by the unhappy 
writer, “ because I was quite unworthy of one so good and 
pure and noble and lovely as yourself. And, in all my ill- 
doing and my gnawing remorse, your bright image has been 
with me, waking and sleeping, worshipped ever, but as a star 
wholly out of my reach. I know my own baseness too 
well. I was not fit to be the mate of such a one as you. 
And yet the one feeling of which I am not ashamed has 
been that love for your dear self, Egeria, the one sentiment 
that seemed to hallow even me. May you be happy ! Your 
choice could never fall on one not worthy of you, such as 
I, in this last hour of repentance and despair, own myself 
to be. Yet I loved you— love you to the last. Pray, 
pray, be merciful in your judgment ; think sometimes, with 
pity, of 

“ Richard Harrington.” 

Not only Lady Egeria, but Sir Lionel as well, was deeply 
affected by the perusal of these few lines, traced but a few 
minutes before the fatal plunge into the dim abyss of the 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


281 

unknown. There was something strangely sad in the reflec- 
tion that, but for the rashness of that desperate deed, the 
miserable man might have been rescued and saved by the 
arrival of a brother who was all forgiveness and chivalry, 
and who came armed with the proofs of his innocence of 
the charge that had seemed so crushing. 

“ Poor fellow ; he too loved you ! ” said Sir Lionel, 
presently. 

“ He did,” replied Lady Egeria, drooping her beautiful 
eyes before the young man’s gaze ; “ and twice he asked 
me to be his wife, and deep as was the debt of gratitude 
1 owed — for did he not save my life, at the risk of his own, 
at Blackwater Tarn ? — still I could not bring myself to 
regard him otherwise than as a friend. And as a friend I 
sorrow for his loss/’ she added, sobbing. 

Somehow, it was never quite remembered how, by either 
of the two, Sir Lionel, in his efforts to console Lady Egeria, 
told her of his deep love for herself, told her how, in his 
Indian captivity, his thoughts by day and dreams by night 
had been of her, and that the remembrance of her, when 
he felt that he might never see England again, had grown 
to be almost maddening to him. Slowly, but surely, at the 
sound of his pleading voice, the beautiful statue seemed 
to thaw as if actual marble, chiselled by some Grecian 
sculptor’s deathless art, had by magic warmed and bright- 
ened into living, loving humanity, and changed from the 
image into the woman. Sir Lionel asked her to be his 
wife. She did not at once reply, but trembled and looked 
down — she who had been so proud, so cold, and now was 
like a shy village maiden hearkening to a tale of love. Sir 
Lionel took her unresisting hand in his. 

“ I have treasured up the thoughts of you, dearest,” he 
said, “ever since I first left England for India, and took 
blame to myself for the foolish hesitation that had kept 
my lips sealed when I might have spoken. But I had 
feared — I own it — to risk all on an avowal. You might 
have repulsed me, and then I should have had a heavy 
heart indeed to take across the seas with me.” 

Lady Egeria lifted her head with the action of a startled 
fawn. She turned her face, coyly, towards her lover. 
There was a glorious light in those lovely eyes of hers 
that never had been seen there before. 

“You — you might have spoken to me, Lionel, at the 


282 


THE LADY EGER I A ; 


time you left me,” she said, in her sweet, clear tones, and 
never did music so welcome fall upon Sir Lionel’s ear as 
the acknowledgment which they implied. He raised her 
hand to his lips and covered it with kisses. 

“Yes,” said Lady Egeria at a later period in their 
conversation — “ yes, Lionel, I have always loved you. 
When you went away I was so sad, dear, though none 
knew or suspected it. And when we heard of what had 
chanced in India, and I mourned you as dead, in my own 
heart I vowed that I would never marry — never belong to 
another for your sake. That it was that made me seem 
the icicle that I was deemed to be. That it was that 
steeled me, I doubt not, against all that your poor brother 
could urge on his own behalf. I could not care for him, 
you see — ” she added, again, with that soft radiance in her 
clear blue eyes — “ I could not, Lionel, because — I loved 
you already.” 

Sir Lionel Harrington was the happiest of men. All that 
he had undergone during the galling period of his im- 
prisonment, all the care and sorrow he had known since, 
seemed to be atoned for in a moment by that one flush of 
triumphant joy. To love and to be loved again, simple, 
world-old secret of happiness that nothing on this earth 
can equal ! 

That one delicious hour in which he found that the 
proud beauty on whom he had set his hopes had been as 
true to his memory as she was tender towards his restored 
presence was worth any meed of worldly success that ever 
statesman or hero achieved. A noble-looking pair the 
lovers were as ever met beneath that ancient roof since the 
half-mythic visit of Edward, Confessor and King, to the 
mansion of his Norman Vavasour. On the morrow, of 
course, the marquess must be asked for his sanction to the 
betrothal that was now exchanged. But, for the present, 
Sir Lionel, when he went back to Greystone Abbey, would 
not have changed places with the loftiest in England. 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT 


285 


CHAPTER LIV. 

MAVINA DECIDES TO ACCEPT JASPER. 

It was ebb tide, so far as the shifting course of public 
opinion went, with two personages who have in this 
narrative played a not unimportant part. The discovery 
of Richard Harrington’s total innocence of the death by 
foul play of that Walter Travis of whose murder he had 
been accused had brought about a revulsion of feeling with 
reference to Miss Malstock and Jasper Holt. What they 
had done with reference to the late usurping master of 
Greys tone was capable of being viewed from more than 
one standpoint, and in lights very various. Accordingly, 
by degrees, Mavina came to be degraded from her pedestal 
as a heroine, and to be looked upon as a sly and spiteful 
young lady, endowed with an unusual power of dissimu- 
lation, while the Mill Lane solicitor was regarded as little 
better than an impudent knave, wishful to run with the 
hare and hunt with the hounds. The immediate results 
of this adverse judgment were lowered social consideration 
for Miss Malstock, and the loss of his more reputable 
clients by Mr. Holt, and the ultimate one that Jasper came 
to make a formal proposal for Mavina’s hand. 

“ We are in the same boat, dear Miss Mavina,” said the 
bold little lawyer, with a pardonable confusion of meta- 
phors ; “and may just as well put our horses together, if 
you have no objection. I always was your adorer, and we 
have gone through a good deal in the same cause, haven’t 
we, and ought, I think, to make a match of it. I know 
the world, bless you ! The very fools who hoot at us now 
will veer round and begin to applaud us again once we are 
married and settled. And with your wits to back mine, I 
should feel confident that I could extend my business and 
double my capital before three years are out.” 

Thus pressed, Mavina gave a reluctant consent to her 
suitor’s proposal. She talked of being married in a year. 
Jasper suggested the briefer delay of three months. We 


284 


THE LAD V EGERIA ; 


may leave them to decide this knotty point by mutual 
compromise. 

The sudden and tragic death of the unfortunate tenant 
of Saxham Towers rendered necessary, for the second 
time within a brief space, the convening of a coroner’s 
court. In this instance, too, a smooth verdict of accidental 
death was returned. Mrs. Stone’s London agents under- 
took, in default of executors, for the Begum had died 
intestate, to provide for her obsequies, to pay her debts, to 
send back to their native country the servants whom she 
had brought with her from India, and to communicate with 
their correspondents in Bombay as to the safe keeping and 
ultimate disposal of the valuable property which she had 
left behind her in England, and of her considerable 
estate in India. 

Then began a great and complicated lawsuit, carried on 
in Indian courts of justice, but with occasional appeals to 
English tribunals, between Zenobia’s next of kin, a suit 
that for lavish expenditure, wholesale perjury, and in- 
genious arguments founded on texts from the Koran and 
clauses of the Laws of Menu, for spurious pedigrees, 
forged documents, and lying witnesses seems likely always 
to remain a by-word with those who have had the patience 
to unravel its details. In this litigation, and the costs 
which it involved, the great fortune, which by crooked 
means the late Mr. Stone amassed in his lifetime, had 
melted away like snow in sunshine. Perhaps it was a 
fitting end for ill-got wealth like his. 

A sadder sequitur to the decease of Mrs. Stone was the 
self exile of the infatuated young man who had laid his 
heart at the feet of so unworthy an idol. Harry Redmayne 
never recovered the high spirits or the joyous good humor 
of other days. He was deaf to the arguments of his father 
or the pleading of his mother and sisters, who would fain 
have had him seek consolation elsewhere. He gave up his 
commission in the Guards. He left England a morose, 
careworn man, aged prematurely by unrequited passion 
and the bitterness of grief, and became a wanderer over 
the earth. America, South Africa, Australia — he tried 
them all by turns, his letters to those whom he had left in 
his old home growing shorter and more infrequent, until at 
last they ceased utterly, and, at the present time, it is not 
known whether the heir of Old Court is alive or dead. He 


OR, BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 


285 


has been lost sight of, as was once Walter Travis, to whose 
memory a neat headstone, beneath which his mortal 
remains sleep in peace, has been put up in the churchyard 
of Greystone. 

The letter of Mr. James Walsh, who had acted as second 
to Walter Travis in the unfair duel in the jungle, coupled 
with the facts elicited by Lord Norham’s visit to India, 
and the entry in the diary of the late Lieutenant Graham, 
could not be passed over by the military authorities. The 
commander-in-chief, as a matter of course, directed a strict 
inquiry into the conduct of Sub-lieutenant Hollis, of the 
lancers, still quartered at Delhi, and who was plainly 
identical with the mysterious “H., who certainly did fire 
first,” of whom Graham had spoken in his memoranda, 
and with the adversary to whom Travis had himself 
attributed his treacherously-inflicted wound. 

There are such things as confidential reports by com- 
manding officers, and in one of these registered at the 
Horse Guards, Mr. Hollis was written down as a black 
sheep, though not in colors quite so sable as he turned out 
to deserve. However, probably through some semi- 
official hint given in time to prevent close arrest and a 
court martial discreditable to the gallant regiment in which 
Mr. Hollis bore no very good character, the inculpated 
subaltern abruptly “sent in” his papers, resumed his 
status as a civilian, and left India. He was last heard of, 
under the name of Briggs, on an obscure farm in the 
Middle Island of New Zealand. 

Lord Norham, to the delight of the marquess, seemed, 
on his return from India, to be cured of the roving pro- 
pensities that had so long afflicted his august father. He 
stayed at Hurst Royal, leaving it only for an occasional 
visit to London, or to the Isle of Wight, where his yacht, 
the Moonbeam, became familiar to nautical critics, spoke 
at hunt dinners and the meetings of the Agricultural 
Society, and in fact appeared to be taking to the duties of 
an English nobleman and landowner. The marquess has 
not yet been able to induce his heir either to take a wife 
or to enter Parliament, decisive steps by which he might 
be regarded as giving bail for home-staying habits in the 
future, but Lord Cheviot is hopeful both as to matrimony 
and St. Stephen’s, on his son’s behalf. Harold’s sister is 
perhaps less sanguine that the adventurous spirit which had 


286 


THE LADY EGER/A. 


led Lord Norham into so many all but untrodden regions 
is exercised at last ; but, after all, Lady Egeria Harrington 
is very glad to have her brother so near to her in her new 
home at Greystone Abbey. 

The tale is told. Within six months of the day succeed- 
ing that on which the body of misguided Richard 
Harrington was laid to rest amid the ancestral dust of his 
race, she whom both brothers had loved so dearly gave 
her hand to the nobler of the two, to him to whose 
memory she had been faithful during the time when he was 
deemed to be dead. 

Sir Lionel, who might merge his ancient baronetcy in the 
fine new title of Lord Harrington would he but go for a 
couple of sessions into Parliamentary harness and represent 
the county in which his possessions are so great, is popular 
with his friends, idolized by his tenantry, and happy in the 
love and confidence of his beautiful wife, who takes an 
interest in all his plans for benefiting his humbler neighbors, 
and is the pride and ornament of the old Abbey that has 
seen so many brides cross its threshold, but never one like 
her. 

The Most Noble the Marquess of Cheviot gave his 
heartiest approbation to his daughter's marriage to the 
man of her choice, but never, to the present day and hour, 
has failed to find a source of perplexity in the fixed idea 
that he had personally attended the funeral of the son-in-law 
whom he saw nearly every day, and always cherishes an 
uncomfortable recollection of the stately interment of the 
unconscious impostor, poor Walter Travis, in the sump- 
tuous mausoleum of the house of Harrington. 


THE END. 


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61. Cosette. By Katharine Maequoid 30 

62. Master of His Fate. By J . Maclaren Cobban 30 

63. A Very Strange Family. By F. W. Robinson SO 

64. The Kilburns. By Annie Thomas 30 

65. The Firm of Girdlestone. By A. Conan Doyle 50 

66. In IIer Earliest Youth. By Tasma 50 

67. The Lady Egeria. By J. B. Harwood 50 

68. A True Friend. By Adeline Sargent 50 

69. The Little Chatelaine. By The Earl of Desart- . . 50 

70. Children of To-Morrow. By William Sharp 30 

71. The Haunted Fountain and Hetty’s Revenge. By Katharine S. - 

Maequoid 30 

72. A Daughter’s Sacrifice. By F. C. Philips and Percy Fendall 50 

73. Ha untings. By Vernon Lee 50 

74. A Smuggler’s Secret. By Frank Barrett 50 

75. Kestell of Greystone. By Esme Stuart 50 

76. The Talking Image of Urur. By Franz Hartmann, M.D 5Q 

77. A Scarlet Sin. By Florence Marryat 50 

78. By Order of the Czar. By Joseph Hatton 50 

79. The Sin of Joost Avelingh. By Maarten Maartens 50 

80. A Born Coquette. By The Duchess 50 

81. The Burnt Million. By James Payn , 50 

82. A Woman’s Heart. By Mrs. Alexander 50 

83. Syrlin. By Ouida 50 

84. The Rival Princes. By Justin McCarthy and Mrs. C. Praed 50 

85. Blindfold. By Florence Marryatt 50 

86. The Parting of the Ways. By Betham Edwards „ 50 

87. The Failure of Elizabeth. By E. Frances Poynter 50 

88. Eli’s Children. By George Manville Fenn 50 

89. The Bishop’s Bible. Bv David Christie Murray and Henry Hermann.. 50 

90. April’s Lady. By The Duchess 50 

91. Violet Vyvian, M. F. H. By May Crommelin 50 

92. A W r oman of the World. By F. Mabel Robinson 50 

93. The Baffled Conspirators. Bv W. E. Norris 50 

94. Strange Crimes. By William W T estall 50 

95. Dishonoured. By Theo. Gift 50 

96. The Mystery of M. Felix. By B. L. Farjeon 50 

97. With Essex in Ireland. By Hon. Emily Lawless 50 

98. Soldiers Three, and Other Stories By Rudyard Kipling — 50 

99. Whose was the Hand. By M. E. Braddon 5(1 

100. The Blind Musician. By Stepniak and WTlliam Westall 50 

101. The House on the Scar. By Bertha Thomas 50 

102. The Wages of Sin. By Lucas Malet 50 

103. The Phantom Rickshaw. By Rudyard Kipling 50 

104. The Love of a Lady. By Annie Thomas 50 

105. How Came He Dead? By J. Fitzgerald Moll^y 50 

106. A Romance of the Wire. By Mrs. Betham-Edwards 50 

107. A New Novel. By B. L. Farjeon 50 

Kb*'. Notes from the News. By James Payn. 50 

109. The Keeper of the Keys. By F. W. Robinson 50 


Any of the above sent postpaid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

150 WORTH STREET, NEW YORK 












































{ GC7 


1956 

















